


The Bitterroot

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Additional Warnings Apply, Case Fic, F/M, I promise, Leviathans, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Plotty, but it will get better, cast of thousands, it gets kind of dark, montana, seriously a lot of SPN cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 80,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every cop has one case that haunts him.  For Dean Winchester, that case was the abduction of little Justin Fogler.  Then one morning, he meets an odd man with an even odder name, Castiel Stephen James Emanuel Clarence Novak, and his life is swept up in magic and mayhem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First, **WARNINGS:** This is about a detective working on a case of missing/abducted children, and it starts off a little grim. It gets better, I promise, but take care if you're not in the mood for reading about bad stuff happening to kids. 
> 
> This was intended to be a short work to divert me while I was struggling to write this year’s Destiel Big Bang challenge entry (see how well that worked out!!!). It’s loosely based on a real child abduction/murder case. 
> 
> I've tried to list the characters who play a major part in the tags, but as people who are familiar with my writing know, I usually cast a wide net in pulling SPN 'verse folks into my stories, so expect a lot of cameo appearances. And since people always ask, yes, this story is completed. It ought to run around 80K words when finished, but the later chapters still need some heavy editing, and I've been a bit busy lately. And lastly, _Corazon de Azul_ is a silly telenovela that somehow makes appearances in many of my fictional 'verses. I don't know why – it just does.

The call sent a chill through his bones.

Dean sipped his coffee and gazed out his kitchen window, mulling over the brief conversation. Human remains, found near the Northern Pacific tracks, out along the lonely stretch of highway that just grazed the northern expanse of the Clark Fork. Sadly, nothing unusual: it was a dark time of year, and most of the crossings around here weren't gated. 

But this was a child. Male child, they thought. 

They _thought._

Dean shivered and set his coffee cup in the sink and then eased into his holster, which he'd slung on the back of his chair. He grabbed his coat and badge, and made for his car, steeling himself for what he was about to see. He'd seen bad stuff, probably more than most people. Women and kids ripped apart by IEDs. Things nobody should have to see. It was something you never got used to.

Bobby told him it was good he never got used to it.

Back when he first joined the force, Dean had had some words with the medical examiner. Doc Fitzgerald was an OK guy, as it turned out – a good family man. But Dean had nearly knocked his head off when the poor guy set his sandwich down on a body while they were talking. “You know what that is?” Dean had shouted, before Benny had pulled him off. “That's somebody's mother, somebody's sister, and you're using her for a lunch tray goddammit!”

But Doc Fitzgerald was OK. Nowadays, Benny did most of the talking to the ME's department though. Dean thought the doc was still a little scared of him. 

He got out there pretty quick – there weren't a lot of other folks up at this hour. He saw the Bitterroot County sheriff's department vehicles. A couple of deputies had put up some crime scene tape, and there was a tarp draped over part of the tracks.

Sheriff Mills herself was here as well. This stretch of the tracks was right on the county line, so it was dicey exactly whose jurisdiction was responsible here. But Jody knew about his case and, small towns being what they were, she'd sent out the call.

Jody looked grim. “There's the woman who called it in,” she confided. She inclined her head towards a woman who was sitting cross-legged by the roadside. A large dog – probably some kind of lab – nosed around her, obviously concerned for its owner. “Miss Pamela Barnes.”

“I'll like to talk to her,” said Dean.

“If you could keep it short?” asked Jody. 

Dean nodded. He walked over and crouched down near where Miss Barnes was sitting. She was wearing muddy running shoes, tights, and a ratty band T-shirt, and it looked like someone had given her one of those disposable reflective ponchos, because it was sagging around her shoulders. She wasn't currently crying, but it looked like she'd remembered her mascara before the run, and now it was smudged all over the place. Dean dug out a clean handkerchief and offered it over. She nodded and dabbed at her face, but then held it up, staring at the black marks. “I'm- I'm gonna get this all crappy.”

“No worries,” Dean said softly. “I'm Detective Winchester.”

“Well,” she said, blinking rapidly. She had striking blue eyes. “Ain't you a vision?” She even forced a small smile.

“And who's this?” Dean asked, giving the dog a good scratch behind the ears.

“That's Dee Dee.”

“Hey, Dee Dee. Like in the Ramones?”

“I'm a fan. They said-” Her attempt at a smile faded. “They said it was a kid?”

“Yeah. So, you were out walking?”

“Running. Running with my dog.”

“A little far out?”

“I'm a marathon runner. I go twenty miles in my practice runs.”

“OK, and you come this way often?”

“Like every other weekend. Dee Dee was restless, so I let him come along. But he started barking when we got up....” She pointed. “I thought it was a squirrel or something. I thought-” She trailed off again. 

“It's OK, ma'am.”

“I can't imagine.... You'll have to tell his mom!” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “How- How do you even do that?”

Dean smiled wistfully. “We do the best we can, ma'am.”

“Ma’am? You talk like I’m a hundred years old.” That slight smile was back again. 

Dean glanced over Miss Barnes’s shoulder: Jody was waving at him. Keep it short, he thought. “Sometimes on this job, you feel like you’re a hundred years old,” he told her. He stood, his knees smarting in protest, and Sheriff Mills was there literally shooing him away. 

There was no putting it off. Straightening his shoulders, he approached where a couple of Jody’s men had strung crime scene tape around a tangle of scrubby bushes near the tracks. One of them – Aaron, he thought, was the guy’s name – nodded to Dean. “There’s- There’s not much left,” he confessed, his voice a little shaky. He was just a kid: about Sam’s age, Dean thought. “Lucky we found ‘em before the animals did. Not much blood, so they say – Jody says – he was probably dead when- when it happened.”

“Matches the description of an abduction case,” Dean told him.

“Aw, shit,” said Aaron. “Damn, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll take a look,” said Dean. He easily stepped over the yellow tape boundary, and walked along the track. There were a couple of tarps set out, covering the remains. Dean pulled out his cell phone and thumbed through some pictures. Male, 3 years old, 50 lbs, 3 ft, blond/blue. And a bright smile, Dean added to himself. 

Suddenly, Dean’s skin prickled. He looked up from his phone, peering into the scrim of trees across the tracks. Was something over there … watching him? Maybe a predator, attracted by the remains? Funny, bears didn’t usually come down this far, and he hadn’t got any reports of wolves nearby. He continued scanning the woods for a while, but managed to convince himself it was just nerves. 

At last he crouched down next to the tarp. He pulled up the corner. He frowned at his phone, and then stared at the remains. As he feared: it could be him. It could be all that was left in this world of Justin Fogler. Whatever Dean was doing, whatever he tried, it hadn’t been enough.

Or maybe it was someone else: some unlucky youngster who just wandered too near the tracks.

But even then, before Dr. Fitzgerald got a look at him, before the blood tests and dental records, Dean _knew._

The sound of old tires rattling on gravel pulled him out of his reverie. His partner, Benny, had just pulled up in his miserable excuse for a pickup truck. Dean stood up and took a step towards him. But there went that prickling again. He turned, once again, and scanned the tree line. 

But whatever it was, whatever watched from the woods, it was gone.

Dean sighed and stepped over the police tape, and went to debrief his partner.

 

It was one month later, to the day, when little Freddie DeAngelo disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben sniffled piteously and wiped his drippy nose with a sleeve and tried to keep up with the big boy who was gripping his hand so very tightly.

He wanted his mommy.

It started pretty fun. It had been fun! He was shopping with mommy, and the older boys had come. They had taken him along with them, and were laughing with him. It was neat!

Then the one boy had pushed him. The one with the hair cropped real close to his skull and mean eyebrows. He had pushed him down. Ben fell right on his face. He cried. He had a bump on his head. It hurt!

They yanked him up and pulled him away. His head throbbed. And then they walked and walked. They walked all the way to the big park.

Was Mommy in this big park? A grownup stopped them, and the mean boy said they were taking him to Mommy. He told the grownup Ben was his little brother. But Ben wasn't his brother. That was a lie!

Ben needed to get away and find his mom. His heart fluttered and his head ached. But the big boy held his hand so tightly. The big boy rubbed his face. Ben saw he had a scar on his forehead. Maybe he'd been pushed down too, just like Ben?

Again they ground to a halt. Another grownup was talking to the mean boy. Now the boy said they were going to the police.

The police?

No, he didn't want to go to the police! Ben hadn't done anything bad! He had gone with the boys, but he thought it was all right. Maybe he was bad to leave Mommy? 

“Don't take me to the police!” Ben wailed once they were alone again. The big boy, still gripping his hand, hushed him.

The mean boy stopped. He grew quiet, and both Ben and the big kid stopped and held their breath. There was something wrong with the mean boy. Something … missing. Ben wasn't big, but he sensed it, down in his bones.

“You keep quiet,” the mean boy hissed to them. He was scolding Ben and the big kid. “I told you to keep quiet.”

“Ricky-?”

But the mean boy took a step towards the big boy, and the big kid sucked in a breath and tightened his hand over Ben's, until it pinched.

Ricky turned to go.

There was a man standing there now. How he had gotten there, Ben wasn't really certain. One moment there was no one, and then there was a man.

One look at him, and Ricky – the mean one – took off running. 

The man crouched down in front of Ben and the big kid. “Hello,” he said softly. He seemed serious, but with a sort of kindness underneath.

“We- We're-” stuttered the big boy. He blinked at the man, whipped his head around to glimpse his friend's retreating back, and then suddenly dropped Ben's hand and went running off.

The man watched him go, and then turned his soft gaze towards Ben. He put out his arms, and Ben stumbled into them. He found himself lifted up, nestled now in a strong, comforting arms.

_Safe._

“Are you injured?”

Ben pointed to the bump on his head and nodded, teary-eyed. “Owie!”

The man touched him ever so lightly on the head, and Ben slipped off into a sweet, peaceful sleep, cocooned in a grip light as a feather.


	3. Chapter 3

Detective Winchester pulled his sleek, black car into the parking lot and raced across the street, stifling a yawn. Jo's call had woken him up from sleeping off another double shift, but this could be a break in the case, and damned if he was gonna let it go.

The red brick building that comprised police headquarters wouldn't have looked out of place on one of those old Twilight Zone episodes about Main Street, USA – it had that turn of the century, but still somewhat eerie small town feel to it. It was a vexing place to work: ice cold all winter, and on a summer day light today it could get stifling. 

Dean pulled open the front door, the old hinges protesting, and entered the waiting area. Despite the early hour it was a madhouse, centered around a red-faced, wailing child, whom Jo Harvelle – the rookie cop who had pulled desk duty this weekend – had obviously been trying to quiet down to little avail. 

“Dean, you know anything about kids?” Officer Harvelle asked as the little boy blubbered and emitted a seemingly endless torrent of tears mixed with snot. 

“Well, this little guy seems to have a healthy pair of lungs,” chuckled Dean, who crouched down to get a look at where Jo was trying to stifle the fuss with a wadded up ball of Kleenex. He quickly took in the red face, and the bump on the kid's forehead. “You call in a doc?”

“Called Jess. She's on her way,” sighed Jo. “Shhh! It's OK, kiddo.”

Dean noticed the open box of donuts on Jo's desk and stood up to help himself. He shifted his attention to the silent, dark-haired man sitting quetly on a vinyl-upholstered seat in the waiting area, an island of silence amid the chaos. Dean held out the carton. “Wanna donut?”

“No, thank you.”

Dean blinked. The guy had a voice on him – it seemed about two sizes too big, as did the wrinkled trench coat he was wearing. Dean leaned over to stage whisper to Jo, “That a flasher?”

“He brought the kid,” said Jo.

“And...?”

Jo huffed in frustration. “See for yourself,” she told him. “Please stop crying!” she pleaded to the wailing boy.

Still carrying the carton of donuts, and now with a tracing of powdered sugar around his mouth, Dean sauntered over to the trench coat dude. “Sure you don't wanna donut?” He shook the box. “We still got a couple with sprinkles!”

“No, thank you,” the man repeated, voice low and even, his wide-set eyes keeping track of Dean.

Dean took another tack. “So, I'm Detective Winchester. And you are?”

“Am I under arrest?” inquired the man.

“Uh, look, you came in with the fog horn over there?” Dean pressed, gesturing towards the kid.

“He wasn't crying when he brought him in!” Jo told Dean.

“You got the kid's name?” Dean asked the mystery man.

“Am I free to go?” asked the man, who actually didn't look inclined to leave.

“I think the kid's name is Ben,” Jo told Dean. She tossed a soaked wad of Kleenex towards the waste basket and went for more. “That's what he said before this.”

“You sure got a way with kids,” Dean told trench coat. “You a day care worker? Or a magician?”

“Am I under arrest?” the guy asked, voice rough, but tone pleasant.

Dean frowned and sat down next to Trench Coat, chewing thoughtfully on the remnants of his powdered donut. He licked his fingers for good measure. “That's all I could get out of him!” Jo told Dean. “Am I under arrest? Am I free to go? Over and over.”

“Yeah, but I'm charming, and you're not. Did you offer him a donut?” Dean held up the carton again, but Trench Coat waved him off. 

“Yeah, I offered him a donut too.”

“You could have _two_ donuts!” Dean told the guy.

“That's not fair!” Jo protested, still dabbing at the sobbing boy's tears.

“Am I free to go?” asked Trench Coat. 

Dean found himself puzzled by Trench Coat man. Normally, he would have been annoyed at such an uncooperative witness, but the guy seemed awfully apologetic about it all. And refusal of donuts – free donuts! – was another bad sign. But there was just something about him, like he wanted to help, but couldn't for some reason. 

He had pretty eyes, too, Dean couldn't help noting. Well, he was a detective, after all. He was supposed to be observant.

“How did you get the kid's name?” Dean asked Jo.

“Mr. Friendly came in holding the kid. I said what's your name, and the kid said Ben. And then I had him put him down, and the waterworks started.”

“So why didn't you just have Mr. Friendly pick him up again?”

“Dean!” Jo exclaimed. “Your case!”

Dean nodded. He had a case, and it was a bad one. Two young boys, about Ben's age, had disappeared over the last couple of months. The second still hadn't been found. But the first.... Dean was a 10 year veteran, but he still had nightmares. 

It didn't make a whole lot of sense that someone who could do that to a child would then bring in another due to a minor bump on the head. But, hell, sometimes human beings were weird and horrible. Jo was probably right to grab little Ben away from Trench Coat. But this case might have no connection at all to the one Dean was working on.

The front door opened, and Dean's partner, Benny, strode in. “Wanna donut, Detective Lafitte?” Dean asked, affably proffering the carton. 

Benny put his hands on his hips and surveyed the room. “Why, yeah, I think I'll help myself.” Dean held up the box and Benny plucked out a chocolate donut with rainbow sprinkles.

“See? That's what you do when someone offers you a donut,” Dean told Trench Coat. 

“And who is this here good citizen?” Benny asked, pointing with the donut to the guy in the trench coat.

“Am I under arrest?” Trench Coat repeated.

“All right, no crullers for you.” 

“Benny's the bad cop,” Dean warned Trench Coat.

Benny turned instead to the wailing boy. “And who have we here, Officer Harvelle?”

“I _think_ he's Ben?” she told him.

“Ben?” Benny stood above the small boy and affected a tone of disbelief. “Why, you can't be Ben! I'm Ben!” he added, jabbing a big thumb in his own direction.

As if by a miracle sent down from heaven, the little boy ceased the horrible wailing and gazed up at the detective. “I'm Ben,” he whispered in a voice cracked from crying.

“No, you're not! Sorry, son, but I'm the only Ben here!” Benny insisted, a twinkle in his eye.

“You should listen to him,” Dean told the boy as he rummaged in the donut box for a cruller. He held it up in front of the trench coat man, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“I'm Ben,” the boy repeated in a very small voice.

“Nope,” said Benny, who was now crouched down beside Jo. “There's just one Ben, and it's me. Detective Ben Lafitte. Yep.”

“You're Ben?” Jo urged and she wadded up yet another batch of Kleenex. The boy looked between them, and the entire room held its breath.

“Uh-huh. Ben _Braeden_ ,” he squeaked. 

Benny grinned and pulled the boy into his arms. “Ben _Braeden_ you say? You sure about that?”

The little boy nodded solemnly (if a bit drippily).

“Jo, every Braeden in the phone book,” Dean said. “Now.” 

Jo had already scrambled behind the desk. But she stared instead at her computer monitor. “Shit, Dean, we just got an Amber alert for a Braeden!”

“What was lost, now is found!” said Benny, who had fitted his cap onto the younger Ben's head now. “Now, you sure you're a Ben? This cap don't fit right!”

“I'm Ben!” the now more cheerful boy agreed as he peered out from under the hat.

The front door opened and closed once more, and a tall and very pretty blond woman now stood there.

Dean broke into a genuine grin. One of his favorite people (and not just because she was gorgeous).

“Hey, Dr. Moore! Wanna donut?” Dean asked.

“You know, those _were_ my donuts, Dean!” Jo scolded. As she was no longer dabbing at the kid, she had gotten sassier.

Jess shook her head. “Is this my patient?” she asked, indicating the boy. 

“Well, it's either him or me,” Benny told her. “We're tryin' to decide. You got a bump there, brother?”

Ben lifted Benny's cap and pointed to his forehead, nodding solemnly. 

Jess peered at the boy's head. “Well, let's take him back to one of the rooms and have a look at that head!” 

“Come on, Mini Me!” Benny told him, lifting up Ben. “You wanna talk to the doctor lady? She's real pretty, ain't she?”

“Charmer,” said Jess. She winked at Dean and followed the Bens out of the waiting area towards a back room. 

“So, we got that cleared up,” Dean confided to Trench Coat. “You got anything to add?”

“Am I-”

“Free to go,” Dean completed, to a wry smile from the trench coat dude. “Well, you managed to annoy Officer Harvelle by eating all her donuts.”

“You're the one eating all my donuts, Dean!” Jo protested. 

The front door opened and closed again. 

“Laufeyson, what the hell are you doin' here?” asked Dean, who jerked away the box of donuts just as the short-statured lawyer reached for one.

“Lookin' for this loser!” said Gabriel, pointing Trench Coat, who had gotten to his feet. “What the heck is going on here, Cas?”

But before Cas could reply, the front door once again creaked open and now a frantic dark-haired woman was in their midst. “My son! They said he was here.”

“Mrs. Braeden?” asked Jo. “Are you Ben's mom?”

“I was speaking with Officer Hanscum when we got the call. Where is Ben? Where is my baby?”

“He's just fine, ma'am,” Dean told her. “Detective Winchester, and this is Officer Harvelle.” He pointed over to Trench Coat. “This guy brought Ben in a while back-”

“You're the one who took him?” Mrs. Braeden demanded of Cas.

“I-” Cas started, but before Dean could move to stop her, Mrs. Braeden lunged at Cas and popped him one in the eye. The only reason a very startled Cas didn't fall to the floor was because Dean somehow managed to step behind and catch him.

“You monster!” Mrs. Braeden shrieked. She would have kicked Cas for emphasis, but Jo was now behind her and managed to pull her back. 

“All right, we're all right,” Jo said in her most soothing voice. “Let's just go on back and see Ben, all right? He's right back here.”

“Ben?” Mrs. Braeden asked.

“Yeah, let's get you back to see Ben. Come on.” Jo half dragged Mrs. Braeden out of the room, pausing to roll her eyes at Dean, who was still holding Cas, on the way out. 

“You OK?” Dean asked Castiel.

“I came upon young Ben in the company of two boys in Lolo Park,” said Cas agreeably. “I would estimate that they were between the ages of ten and twelve, and they departed in a northwesterly direction.”

“Whoa,” said Dean. He set Cas back on his feet. “When did you get chatty, buddy? Did the knock on the head scramble your brains.” He reached up to trace a thumb over Cas's developing shiner. 

“My brother instructed me that when in police custody I should limit myself to those particular two phrases until my counsel arrived,” Cas explained. 

“Cas, I ever tell you, you sometimes take things way too literally?” Gabriel sighed, licking powdered sugar from his fingers.

“You're Laufeyson's brother?” Dean asked, casting a skeptical eye on the pair of them. 

“Allow me to introduce myself,” said Cas, who actually gave a quick bow. “I am Castiel Stephen James Emanuel Clarence Novak.”

Dean whistled low. “That's a mouthful. Hey, wait, and you're brothers? Why don't you guys-”

“Have the same last names?” said Gabriel. “Long story. But can we maybe duck into a back room, away from the Avenging Mom? I don't like my clients bruised up.”

“Yeah, come on this way,” Dean told them, heading off in the opposite direction of where Ben had been taken. Much to Dean's annoyance, Gabe snatched up the entire carton of donuts and grabbed himself a tasty buttermilk cruller. 

Dean let them into an interrogation room. Gabe and Cas sat down next to one another, and Gabriel set down the box of donuts, helping himself to another.

“Hey, don't bogart the donuts, Laufeyson!” Dean snapped, pulling the box over towards him. “Now, Mr.-?”

“You are welcome to call me Castiel,” Cas told him. “I've been informed that my name can be … intimidating to some.” He cast his eyes over to his brother, who had maple frosting all over his lips.

“Go on, Cas. And make it snappy, I'm due back in court, and that old asshole Judge Singer ain't exactly lenient about tardiness.”

“Gonna tell him you said that,” Dean chuckled, and Gabriel actually looked pale.

“I was eating my lunch in Lolo park,” said Castiel. “As I usually do.”

“My bro is a creature of habit – so same spot?”

“Yes, it was the same spot.”

“It's by the fountain. Bro is a bird watcher!”

Dean contemplated taking another donut as he observed the two men relating the story. Though there was little resemblance, their easy interleaving conversation gave him very much the impression of two men who had been around each other a lot.

“I was feeding the birds my leftovers, as I typically do, when I noticed three boys walking across the park, two older boys accompanying a younger boy, who was obviously in a state some distress.”

“You get a good look?”

“I could offer a description of the one boy. As I continued to observe, they encountered an adult, who stopped to inquire about the young boy. They told this individual that he was a younger brother, and he continued on. At this point, the two older boys appeared to have a disagreement.”

“You seemed to be watching them closely,” said Dean.

“My bro is nosy,” said Gabriel.

“I was also aware of the two child abductions in the area, so I was being more observant than usual,” Cas admitted, which caused Gabriel to lift an eyebrow. “As the boys were stopped,” he continued, “another adult paused to inquire about the young boy. This time, the youngsters told her they were going to a police station, as the boy had lost his mother. This second adult, also, walked away.”

“Ah. They didn't have their stories straight,” said Dean.

“No. It was at this point that I decided intervention was called for. I approached the boys. Unfortunately, both older boys fled my presence. Fortunately, I was able to bring Ben here.”

Dean sat back, scratching his chin.

“You done good, Cas,” said Gabriel. 

“I hope so.”

“You said you could give us descriptions of the boys?” Dean asked.

“I got a much better look at the one. I will offer my full cooperation.”

“What if I get a sketch artist?” Dean proposed. 

There was a knock at the door. Dr. Moore was standing there. “I heard I had another patient in here?” she said.

“Yes!” said Gabriel, throwing one hand over his chest. “I have a broken heart over you, Dr. Moore!”

“You have indigestion from gobbling up the donuts,” Dean snarked.

Jess rolled her eyes and put her bag on the table in front of Cas. “Let me see that face.”

“I assure you, doctor, I am fine,” Cas told her, as Jessica rummaged around through her instruments.

“You could … press charges?” Dean suggested tentatively.

“Mrs. Braeden was simply being protective,” Cas told him, and Dean sighed in relief. Somehow, he wasn't sure why, he wanted Cas to be one of the good guys.

Jess tweaked a small flashlight at Cas's eyes, and poked and prodded a bit before she was satisfied. “You guys have a cold pack?”

“I'll grab one,” said Dean, who was already on his feet, running out the door and across the hall to the fridge.

“How is the boy?” Cas asked, and once again, Dean found himself smiling as he felt around the freezer compartment for one of the cold packs.

“He'll be fine,” said Jess. “Breathe in and out for me?” she asked, holding a stethoscope to his chest. He complied, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Everything peachy?” asked Gabe, who was now sitting up on the table, snacking on another donut.

“You are in very good shape, Mr. Novak,” said Jess, but there was something odd in her tone. Dean grabbed the cold pack and, shaking the frost off his fingers, was about to cross back into the interview room when he was waylaid by the hulking shape of his partner. 

“And how is Mr. Fifth Ammendment doin'?” asked Benny, sparing a suspicious glance towards where Jess was still poking at Castiel and Gabriel was engorging pastry. “Heard he had a run-in with the mom.”

“Oh, he's talking.”

That got a reaction. Benny put a hand to his head and would have adjusted his cap, were it not still on young Benny's head. So instead he scratched his scruffy beard. “Will wonders never cease. It talks?”

“He needs Laufeyson around.”

“Why?”

Dean lobbed the cold pack between his hands. “Gabriel's his lawyer. And his brother.”

“Ew,” said Benny. He lowered his voice. “So, what's the situation?”

Dean leaned closer. “Claims he came across the boy in the company of a couple of older minors. Up in Lolo Park area.”

Benny's eyes went wide. “Ah! That matches what Henricksen just tol' me.”

“What was that?”

“Someone called in about the Amber alert. Said they thought they saw Ben passin' by with a couple of older kids. I was gonna meet 'em, hook 'em up with a sketch artist.”

Dean gripped the cold pack and thought for a moment. “Do me a solid,” he said, lobbing the cold pack over to Benny. “Don't tell Cas what you said, but get him to the sketch artist too. Let's see how they match up.”

Benny nodded. “An' where you goin'?”

“Courthouse.” Dean winked and took off.


	4. Chapter 4

The courthouse was located just across the street from police headquarters. It was a fine thing, built back when the town was a major hub for the railroads. It had fallen into some disrepair during hard times (one of the panics they used to have during the last century) but then was freshened up with some WPA money, which resulted in a couple of murals in the social realist style decorating the high entryway along the main staircase. It depicted miners laboring, digging a white substance from the earth. Mining and timber had once been pillars of the economy, but the old mine, long abandoned, was just a tourist destination. 

Dean hurried up the stairs, distracted by his thoughts to the extent that he nearly bumped into crusty old Judge Singer, who muttered “idjit,” as Dean hurried past him, up to the DA's office on the second floor. 

As usual, the office was a hive of activity. Dean stationed himself beside the entrance and bellowed. “Hey, is the Moose in today?”

Several people laughed, and it wasn't long before a long-haired, very tall man holding a stack of law books was heading Dean's way. “Dammit, Dean! I told you about using that nickname.” He turned and threw open the door to the office marked, “Samuel Winchester, District Attorney,” and thumped the books down on the desk beside a large ceramic mug shaped like a moose head on a desk that was sitting below a giant framed poster of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Another wall of the small office was dominated by an enormous stuffed moose head, which held in its moose-mouth a basketball hoop.

“People might get the wrong impression!” Sam chided his brother. He sat down behind his cluttered desk and picked up a basketball, which he began to dribble. “So, what's shaking, Detective Winchester?”

Dean pushed aside a large, antlered plush doll and leaned against the top of a low shelf. “This ain't a moose, it's a reindeer,” he commented, shaking the toy so the tiny bell concealed inside jingled.

“Moose could carry Santa's sleigh. They are strong. And wily!” his brother answered back, spinning the basketball on his fingertips, and then passing it over. Dean managed to drop the moose/reindeer doll in time to catch the ball. 

“You know the serial case I'm workin' on?” Dean asked.

“Child abduction?” Dean nodded, and Sam grew serious. “You think it's serial?”

“I got a feeling about it.”

“Not much to connect the two.”

“I think we have a third.”

“Oh, shit.” 

Dean bounced the ball and tossed it back to his brother. Sam had worked his way through college on a basketball scholarship, and had picked up the “Moose” nickname – which he not-so-secretly adored – during his junior year. The kid had actually been scouted by the pros, but a tricky knee had pointed him towards law school instead. “A season, maybe two tops before I've got a permanent limp,” he had reasoned. Nowadays there were a lot of people speculating about not whether but when Dean's baby brother might run for office higher up than District Attorney.

Dean didn't care about any of this – he was proud of the little shit. And Sammy was still his best friend in the whole wide world. “The good news is, looks like it's been foiled. We have a guy over next door.”

“You have the guy?”

“We have _a_ guy.” 

“Well, if you have the guy...”

“I don't think he's _the_ guy.”

“How do you know your guy is not the guy?” Sam gave the ball a quick dribble and passed it back.

Dean caught the ball and bounced it on the floor a couple of times, wondering if his crazy brother made his officemates insane. “I just know. He's kinda strange, but I think he's one of the good guys. I just get that feeling about him.” He passed the ball and leaned back on the shelf, and summarized the events of the morning as Sam listened. 

“And you didn’t bring me a donut?” Sam whined. Trust Dean’s brother to focus on the important parts of the story!

“Sammy, the guy says there were other kids with Ben.”

That was interesting enough for Sam to set down his basketball and scratch his chin. Dean had worked long and hard on the two child abduction cases. At one point, he had uncovered a small, fuzzy segment of security camera footage that seemed to show the missing toddler in the company of a couple of older kids. Everything looked like it matched up, but the kids were both walking away from the camera, and none of the witnesses they interviewed seemed to recall them. If Sam was the Moose, Dean was a bulldog – once he got a theory in his head, he wouldn’t give up. 

“Kids?” Sam held up a hand. “One, two, three-?”

“Two of 'em. And he got a good look at one of them. From the front. I’m having him sit with the sketch artist.”

“You’re making him sit with Becky?” Sam laughed. 

“She’s pretty normal. When she’s not around you. Oh, speaking of which, saw your better half this morning. We called her in to check out our vic.”

Sam’s face instantly went to a broad, dopey smile. Those kids were in love, no doubt about it. 

“And your guy came across the vic in the park, you say?” Sam ventured. Dean sighed. It was a tough point, but an important one. There was some indication that the other disappeared kids were taken north, across the wandering Clark Fork, into the neighboring county. Unfortunately, that meant the normal interdepartmental tussle with the Bitterroot County Sheriff’s Department out that way. 

The basketball hurtling towards his face snapped Dean out of his reverie. He caught it and said, “Yeah, the park.”

Sam was leaning back, hands pressed together in a steeple, doing his “studious lawyer” thing. “Seems to me your gut instincts are good on this one, Dean. But you've got work to do. First thing is I'd scour the park area for witnesses. Maybe put out a bulletin. If your witness isn't lying-”

“I don't think he is.”

“-then we need to talk to those kids.”

Dean stood and dunked the ball in the moose hoop. “Thanks, little brother.”

“I want to solve those abductions as much as you do, Dean.”

Dean waved goodbye to DA Moose and picked up his madly buzzing cell phone as he left the offices. _“We have trouble, brother,”_ came Benny's voice over the line. 

“You still at headquarters?”

_“Down at the mall. Thought to myself this was time for some shoppin’.”_

Dean chuckled as he headed down the corridor. “Let me guess, you're looking for the security cam footage? What gives?”

_“There's been a change of management here – did you know it was now a 'RomanMall Enterprises LLC,' or some such shit? Anywho, the head mall cop or whatever, some guy named Edgar, won't give over the tapes.”_

“Why the fuck not?” Dean yelled. This could make or break the case! 

“Idjit!” exclaimed Judge Singer, who Dean had just bumped into for the second time that day. “Watch where the hell you're headed, Winchester!”

“Wait a minute, I didn't hear,” Dean told Benny. “He wants a warrant?” He turned towards the glaring beacon of jurisprudence standing before him on the stairway. “Hey, Bobby, we might need a warrant.”

“Well, I'll just go pull one out of my judicial ass then, won't I?” Bobby snarled.

“It's that child abduction case,” Dean told him, and Judge Singer's expression changed from snarling to mild antipathy. 

“All right, you got me listenin'.”

“I got my partner on the phone. We just got a kid in who disappeared when the mom was at the mall. There’s witness testimony that a couple of kids walked him off. But the head guy out there at the mall isn't going to give over the security tapes. I guess it’s changed hands, and it’s now under the management of Roman Enterprises?”

Judge Singer crossed his arms and looked surly. He was good at that. “Well, they got the right. It’s private property, and this here is still the United States of America. You think this is connected?”

“I got a feeling about this one.”

“Boy, you know the rules as good as me! This ain't no chick flick. You gotta show me evidence!”

Dean slumped. “Yeah, I know. We're working on that.”

Judge Singer shook his head and lowered his voice. “I know that one's sticking in your craw, Dean. Look, you get me something I can chew on, we'll see what we can do to get your tapes from Roman Enterprises. I don’t much like those fellas.”

Dean steeled himself and looked the judge in the eye. “We're working on it. I'll be back!” And then he hopped on down the steps and ran back towards headquarters.

 

Officer Hanscum was behind the desk when Dean returned to the police station. “Donna! What's the word?” Dean asked, putting on his most charming smile.

“You let Laufeyson eat all my donuts, that's the word!” Donna retorted. 

“Aw, you're not gonna hold it against me? I'll go out to Top Pot for you!” Dean sat down on the desk and Donna grinned. She wasn't one to hold a grudge, except when it came to pastries. 

“You'll get the ones with bacon?” asked Officer Hanscum.

“Anything for you. So, how's the little boy?”

“Ben and his mama are at the hospital, but sounds like it was just a bump on the noggin. Sure glad we got him back: Miss Braeden was frantic. I can't imagine!”

“Me neither,” Dean confessed. He knew how the case affected him now, and he wasn't even a relative.

“Such a nice lady, too.”

“And our witness?”

“Oh, Mr. Novak!” fluttered Officer Hanscum. She put a hand to her chest. “That's one pair of big blue eyes, isn't it?”

Dean would have to agree, but he didn’t want to look like an idiot. “Did we get him to the sketch artist?”

“Becky came in.” Both the officer and Dean rolled their eyes. “He's down the hall in room two. With Laufeyson.” She scowled at the mention of the annoying lawyer. Donna was a good cop – an excellent cop – but she didn't forgive and she didn't forget. One thing Dean really liked about her.

“And then the other witness lady came in. Real nice, she's fond of knitting – she even brought her bag along! I have her down the other way, since Benny told me to keep 'em all separate for now.”

Dean decided to check in with Castiel first. He poked his head in the door. He had learned to expect just about anything when it came to their somewhat eccentric sketch artist, but the scene before him was still a surprise. “So I just don't know where the relationship is heading!” Becky Rosen was telling a solemnly nodding Gabriel Laufeyson as they both sipped paper cups full of what was inevitably rather ghastly station house coffee.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Castiel sat hunched over a sketch board, pencil in hand, looking like he was working on a brand new Mona Lisa.

“So, Miss Rosen,” said Dean pointedly, “do we have an idea of the perp's appearance?”

Becky opened her mouth, but Gabriel stopped her with a light finger pressed on her arm. “Miss Rosen and I were just chatting. My little bro is a bit fussy about his sketches as it turns out.”

Dean scowled and then went over to take a look for himself at Castiel's drawing. He placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder and then felt himself let out a gasp. The sketch looked like it had come from one of DaVinci's notebooks. “Cas, this is awesome!” he said. 

“It's not quite finished,” Castiel apologized. “I don't have any of my usual materials.”

“Believe me, this is good. This is just fine.” Becky gave a glare from across the room, but then Gabriel asked her a question and she began chattering again.

“I need to add colors!” fussed Castiel. “The youngster was wearing a distinctive jacket. It should be easy for you to find when colored in.”

Dean let out a laugh, and Castiel appeared puzzled. “Let me guess: silver and maroon?” asked Dean.

“Yes!” And then a pregnant pause. “How did you know?” Castiel asked suspiciously.

“It's the Grizzlies colors. There's a game today.”

“Oh.” 

Castiel was momentarily crestfallen, so Dean asked, “Hey, what about the other kid?”

“As I told you, I only obtained a good look from the back.”

Dean held up Cas's sketch and tapped it. “Hey, if you could even get something one tenth as good as this, it would help.”

Dean nodded encouragingly and gave Cas a pat on the back. Hanscum was right, the man had eyes as blue as the big sky. 

“Miss Rosen?” he asked. Becky looked up, obviously annoyed to be interrupted in her conversation with Gabriel. “Could you come this way?” He gestured to Gabriel to stay put – he wasn't going to let on to either of the brothers that there was at least one more witness.

“That Mr. Novak is way too fussy!” Becky groused as soon as they were out of the room. “He says, short hair. No, not that short. Not that's not the right hairline. Who does he think he is, anyway?”

“Uh, yeah, we know, guy’s a little … _eccentric_ ,” Dean related, trying not to grin. “That's why we're gonna have you work with our other witness here. Now, this is really important, so listen up!” They were out in the front now, where Officer Hanscum looked on with amused eyes. “We don't want them to know about one another, because we have to keep their statements separate. That understood?”

“Well, she can't possibly be as annoying as Mr. Novak!” Becky stormed. 

Officer Hanscum chuckled, but quickly hid her smile and led Becky off to the second witness. “Now, you'll like this lady. You two sit down and have a nice chat...” she told Becky as she quick-marched her down the hall.

Dean found Gabriel standing outside the door of the interview room when he returned to check on Castiel's progress. “Damn,” said the lawyer. “I feel like a need a cigarette, and I don't even smoke.”

Dean held up his hands. “I'd offer you a donut, but....”

“Oh, that would be good right now,” said Gabriel, totally missing the snark, and now rubbing his stomach. “That Rosen chick – she's a little off.”

That made Dean raise an eyebrow – after all, this was Castiel Novak's brother speaking! At which point, who should emerge but Castiel himself, holding a drawing. “You done already, Cassie?” asked Gabriel, grabbing the sketch from him.

“This time I did not have Miss Rosen's poor version of perspective to overcome,” Castiel griped.

“Aw, this ain't gonna help, kiddo,” said Gabriel as Dean grabbed the drawing away from him. “It's all from the back.”

It was, indeed, a nearly photorealistic rendering of the back of a ten year old boy.

And it made Dean's blood run cold.

“This is _exactly_ what we need,” Dean managed to say.

“What, really?” asked Gabriel as Castiel donned a positively smug expression. Gabriel glanced at his watch. “Aw, shit, I'm gonna be late for my court date. Judge Singer is gonna have my ass. Can you get home OK, Castiel?”

“I'll be fine, Gabriel,” Castiel assured his brother, and Gabriel took off sprinting down the corridor.

Dean had an idea. “Where do you live, Cas?” 

“So, I am free to go now?” replied Castiel, with just the touch of a smile. 

Dean broke into a grin. So Mr. Weirdo actually had a sense of humor? “Like I said, where do you live?”

“It's not far. Just east of the university.”

“Cas, that's on the other side of town. Let me drop you.”

 

Dean, of course, had other motivations for offering Castiel Novak a ride home besides acting as a good Samaritan. Here was a chance to hang out with the guy without his lawyer-brother present, and maybe get him chatting. But to his dismay, Dean found “monosyllabic” was a rather accurate characterization – though Dean tried and tried on the drive there, it was nearly impossible to get Castiel to offer more than a one-word answer to any of his questions.

But then at last they pulled up at Castiel's residence, and Dean was in for a shock. “Wait a minute, isn't this the Peterson Mansion?” he asked of the massive Victorian-style house that was the only house for miles.

“Yes,” said Cas. And then he elaborated, “This is our home now.”

“You and Gabe?” asked Dean.

“My family,” said Cas. 

Dean searched his mind – it seemed he remembered the old house had been sold, but he didn't remember who had bought it. 

Castiel had already gotten out of the car while Dean had been gawking, but he leaned over towards the open window and inquired, “Would you care to come inside?” 

Dean didn't need to be prodded. He was quickly out of the car and walking side by side with Cas up the path to the broad front porch. Meanwhile, he searched his memory for information about the Peterson mansion. The last he could recall, someone had tried to set it up as a bed and breakfast, but patrons were supposedly frightened away by a ghost. Or maybe it was the terrible TripAdvisor reviews.

The front door swung open. A stern-looking black man stood in the doorway. “Castiel.”

Castiel paused, glaring at the man. “Raphael,” he responded. There was a short stare-off, and then finally Raphael stepped aside and Castiel and Dean entered the house. Dean swept his eyes around the room. Yes, it definitely looked swank. But he was distracted by the apparent tension between Castiel and this new guy.

Raphael made a harrumphing type sound and, sighing, Castiel told Dean, “Detective Winchester, this is my brother, Raphael.”

“Hey, Raph,” said Dean, reaching out to shake hands.

“You might know me better as Tobias Budge,” said Raphael. 

“All you guys got a million aliases?” Dean asked Castiel.

“It is not an alias!” Raphael huffed, clearly offended. “It is my stage name. I am first violinist in the symphony orchestra.”

“We got an orchestra?” Dean asked. That kind of thing always flummoxed him. Raphael glowered, although he noticed that a small smile was creeping into Cas's face. Clearly these two didn't get along like Cas and Gabe. “So, uh, you guys are brothers?” Dean ventured.

Two pointing fingers shot up. “He's adopted!” Cas and Raphael chorused, each pointing an accusing finger at the other.

“You two! Cut it out!” came a tired voice from upstairs. A disheveled man appeared on the staircase. He was dressed in a ratty bathrobe, and looked like his face hadn't seen a shaving razor in a day or three. He shuffled down the stairs, squinting at Dean. “Castiel, Raphael: behave yourselves. We have a guest!” Something about him looked awfully familiar to Dean. Had they met before, he wondered?

“Father,” said Castiel as the older man reached the bottom of the stairs, “this is Detective Winchester.”

The man went pale. “She swore she was over twenty-one!”

“Who?” asked Dean.

Raphael rolled his eyes and Castiel simply looked puzzled.

“Uh, nobody. What is this about?” The man scrubbed a nervous hand through his stubble.

Suddenly, a light went on in Dean's memory. He’d seen the face – a bit less disheveled – on the back of a book. “Wait. Carver Edlund – are you-?”

“Yeah,” said the man, extending a hand to shake. “That's a _nom de plume_ actually. Name's Chuck. Chuck Shurley.”

“You guys all have aliases?” asked Dean, looking around at Castiel and Raphael.

“It's a _nom de plume_!” Mr. Shurley insisted. 

“I read somewhere you bought this house,” said Dean. “And you're related to … Gabriel too?” Raphael shook his head – clearly he had the same impression of Laufeyson as the police department – but Castiel smiled. 

“They are all my sons. The money I've made writing has allowed me to bring some … special children into my family.”

Dean cringed at the phrase “special children,” and not only because Castiel must have been nearly six feet tall. 

“Children are the reason Detective Winchester is here today,” said Castiel. “While I was … having my lunch today, I encountered two minor children who I believe were in the midst of abducting a third, younger child.” He turned towards Dean, his expression sympathetic. “Detective Winchester believes me to be a suspect in this case, and, as a good detective, has been trying to draw me out.”

Dean gritted his teeth, expecting to be swiftly banished from the premises. Instead, Raphael said something to Castiel in a strange, archaic-sounding language. There was a short, grave-sounding exchange between the three men, and then Chuck stepped forward, now grown serious. 

“Detective Winchester, do you believe that this circumstance is related to the recent child abduction cases?”

Honestly taken aback, Dean decided to go with the truth. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Chuck put a hand on his shoulder. “Anything my family can do for you – anything – just ask.” Standing behind their father, Raphael nodded solemnly, and Castiel positively beamed.

Not knowing what to say, Dean made his excuses and got the heck out of there. His phone rang just as he reached his car. “Yeah Benny?”

_“You gonna get your ass down here, brother? Got us an official hearin' with Judge Singer, and he ain't a prom date you can ditch.”_

“Yeah. Gave Novak a ride home.”

_“You sly dog! You get anything useful out of him?”_

Dean sat down in the driver's seat. “It's weird as fuck,” he confessed.

_“Oh, that's a surprise!”_

“I'll fill ya in later. But Benny?”

_“Yeah, brother?”_

“Goddammit, I believe his story!” Dean muttered his goodbyes over the sound of his partner's chuckles, and, firing up the engine, headed towards the courthouse downtown.

 

“You gonna make this worth my while?” Judge Singer groused as the three men entered his chambers. “I'm gonna miss my _Corazon de Azul_ if I don't hurry.”

Dean grinned. Beneath the bluster, Judge Singer was a stand-up guy – he'd been like a second father to Dean and his brother when they were kids, and had mentored Sammy through law school. But he was devoted to his stupid Spanish-language soap opera. “Sorry I'm late, Bobby. I was just seeing a witness home. You'll never guess who Castiel Novak's father is.”

“Ain't interested unless it's Ernesto de la Hoya.” (Ernesto de la Hoya was the mysterious, eyepatch-wearing, white stallion-riding hero of _Corazon de Azul_.)

“Carver Edlund.”

It was a rare occasion to see the Honorable Judge Robert Singer brought up short, so Dean relished the moment. The old man leaned forward. “ _The_ Carver Edlund? I heard he moved in here.”

“They're in the old mansion.”

Judge Singer leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You don't think you could get me an autograph? That man can write a cowboy novel like nobody's business!”

“I'll see what I can do,” Dean promised. “Now, about this warrant...” Benny handed over a manila folder. Dean pulled out a couple of papers and slid them over onto Bobby's desk. “Here's the sketches we have of the two boys Novak reported were in the company of the Braeden kid.”

Bobby adjusted his reading glasses, and then held up the paper. “Who did you get as a sketch artist, DaVinci?” He waved one of the drawings. “And why the hell a sketch from the back?”

Dean pulled out another paper and slid it over. “You remember the security cam footage from the Fogler kidnapping?” The paper held a blown up image of the video footage that had haunted Dean: a little boy holding another boy's hand, walking away from the camera.

Dean, Benny and Bobby all leaned forward and stared at the image. Bobby slid Castiel's sketch of the boy walking away from him right beside it. His hands traced the similarities – there was a rip in the boy's jacket at exactly the same spot, and identical patches on the shoulders.

Judge Singer looked up at Dean. “Now, you swear to me, that Novak fella ain't seen this footage?”

“It was never released to the public,” Dean told him.

“We think this is enough to scan security cam footage from the mall, but that new manager ain't cooperating,” said Benny.

“Yeah, well, he's gonna cooperate now,” said Judge Singer. “You boys go, you turn that damn mall upside-down, you hear me? I'm gonna give you a warrant says you can strip that manager to his underpants.”

Dean and Benny looked at one another and shared a grin.


	5. Chapter 5

“Why you always gotta park seventeen miles away?” Benny groused as he and Dean walked across the vast parking lot towards the mall. 

“Door dings, dude! Not happening to my baby.”

“We should've taken my truck instead.”

“I've told you a thousand times, no. I ain't getting' in that rattletrap. I might run into somebody I know!”

Benny chuckled good-naturedly, and Dean cracked a grin, contented in the rhythm of their mild bickering. “This more your style, Rico Suave?” Benny asked, pointing at a Le Mans Blue vintage Corvette Stingray that was tucked into a space right next to the front entrance.

“Oh, man,” said Dean, whistling low. He paused to take in the glory, crouching down to take it all in. “Good eye. Think this is a '68.”

“That thing gonna be shit when it starts snowin',” Benny fussed.

“You don't take it out in winter, dude! You garage it.”

Benny tilted his head, running his eyes over the slick coupe. He crouched down next to Dean, his knees popping. “Looks like this one's bein' used.” He traced a big finger over a tire – there were big cracks between the tread and the sidewall. 

Dean looked over his partner's shoulder, huffing in annoyance. “He's been runnin' over gravel.”

Benny straightened. “How you know it's a _he_ , Detective?” he asked as they stepped inside the mall. “Ain't that an assumption fueled by sexist underpinnin's?”

“Elementary, Detective Lafitte,” said Dean. “It was a special kind of gravel, known only to the carpets of man caves!”

Benny didn't reply, but simply arched an eyebrow.

“Also,” Dean shrugged, “it was parked in the manager's spot. He pointed to sign over the spot.

Benny glowered. “I shoulda put a key to it.”

“Anyways, when did this place become a RomanMall” asked Dean, waving a hand. Benny had stopped at the coffee stand to grab a cup of Joe.

“Those folks comin' in, buyin' up everything. My cousin down in Baton Rouge, he says Roman come in an' bought the whole damn town. You sure you don't want nothin', Dean?” he added as the barista handed him a large iced strawberry latte.

“Is there even any coffee in that concoction?” Dean asked while his partner happily slurped the gooey red substance. “My brother likes that _frou frou _stuff – you should talk to him.”__

__Benny nudged Dean, and the detectives watched in disbelief as a rather odd group of citizens came striding up. It was a cadre of old ladies dressed in sweatsuits and running shoes, some holding little hand weights, and in their midst, none other than Gabriel Laufeyson._ _

__“Good day to you, officers!” boomed Gabriel_ _

__“Uh, Gabe?” said Dean._ _

__“You got the Golden Gals chasin' after an ambulance with you this mornin', Laufeyson?”_ _

__“It's my mall walking day,” said Gabriel. “And what brings you here, Detective Winchester?”_ _

__“We got a warrant to serve to the management.”_ _

__Gabe's face lit up like a supreme court nominee at a confirmation hearing. “Oh, my old buddy, Edgar Allen. This should be rich! I might hang along with you peace officers and kibitz. Maybe bring the popcorn?”_ _

__Dean and Benny exchanged a look. Benny shrugged._ _

__“Yeah, why not?” said Dean. “C'mon.”_ _

__“Remember, ladies, heel-toe, heel-toe!” Gabriel admonished his crew, before power walking along behind Dean and Benny towards the management offices._ _

__The manager wasn't pleased to see the warrant, and we even less pleased when he spied Gabriel. “Laufeyson,” he hissed, sounding positively reptilian (Dean could have sworn the dude's tongue was forked)._ _

__“We meet again,” said Gabriel with a grin as he hopped up to sit on Mr. Allen's desk as the manager whispered with an assistant._ _

__“According to the terms of this document,” said Mr. Allen, “we will provide you with records from the hours of 8 am until noon yesterday.”_ _

__“Eddie,” said Gabriel, pointing to the warrant. “This says you gotta release everything from the last 72 hours. Four hours, that ain't 72?”_ _

__“The detectives don't require all that information,” scoffed Edgar._ _

__“Actually, I think we do,” said Dean. He and Edgar had a brief stare-down, which Edgar evidently lost, as he waved over his assistant once again and conducted yet another hushed-voice conversation._ _

__“Go and burn some DVDs,” Benny told the assistant, who didn't seem to appreciate the sentiment. He slurped his red espresso concoction._ _

__Gabriel leaned over and grabbed a Tootsie roll from the bowl on Edgar's desk. “That's provided for the children,” Edgar told him._ _

__“I'm a kid at heart,” said Gabriel._ _

__“Nice that this mall is a safe place for kids,” said Dean._ _

__“Oooo!” said Gabriel, who suddenly grabbed Benny's latte. “Detective Lafitte, this poor man needs ice for that burn.” Benny's possessive snarl turned to a snort._ _

__Edgar waved off the icey drink, and Gabriel passed it back to the detective. “So might I inquire-” Gabe began again._ _

__“What are you doing here, Laufeyson,” snarled Edgar. “I should have you removed from the premises.”_ _

__“On what grounds?” Dean inquired._ _

__Edgar glared at Gabriel, who replied by blowing a kiss Edgar's way. “I find him irritating.”_ _

__“Hey, yeah, so do it!” said Dean._ _

__“Me too,” said Benny._ _

__“Hey, even I find myself annoying,” laughed Gabriel. “So, Eddie, you gonna tell these boys which cameras?”_ _

__Mr. Allen muttered something._ _

__Benny poked at his own ear. “Don't think I heard that.”_ _

__“Atrium, north mezzanine, food court....”_ _

__“Parking lot?” added Gabriel._ _

__“Yeah, parking lot, I was just gonna ask about that,” said Dean._ _

__“The warrant doesn't cover that,” Edgar told him._ _

__Gabriel picked up the warrant and pointed the Tootsie Pop at it. “Says here the entire property and it's environs. Seems like a reasonable person would consider the parking lot 'environs.'”_ _

__“Yeah, I consider it environs! It's environs as all hell,” said Benny._ _

__“Didn't say you were reasonable, but I'll take it,” Gabriel sassed, but Benny was busy staring down Edgar. “Well, much as this has been fun, I got a date with Estelle Getty and the girls,” he said, hopping off the desk and making for the door._ _

__“I won't forget this, Laufeyson,” Edgar warned him. Gabe blew him another kiss and skedaddled, and Edgar's face turned beet red._ _

__“Hey,” said Dean, snapping his fingers. “Security tapes. And get snappy.”_ _

__

__Carrying a large box laden with DVDs, Dean and Benny hastened down a darkened staircase and arrived in a cluttered office in the dark basement of police headquarters. “Hey, Deveraux!” Benny bellowed._ _

__“Frank's over here!” hailed a bright-eyed redheaded woman who had seemed to pop up out of nowhere._ _

__“Oh, great, rat me out, Bradbury,” grumbled Frank Deveraux, who trundled out from behind a bookcase stacked with raggedy computer entrails. Benny pushed a carton at him, but Frank stood, arms crossed. “And what do you expect me to do with all of this?”_ _

__“We're looking for a kid, Frank,” said Dean._ _

__“Found him, you have!” chirped the redhead, who scurried back when Frank aimed a particularly potent glare her way. “Or, so I've heard?”_ _

__“Yeah, we found the Braeden kid,” said Dean. “But we wanna ID the guys who took him.”_ _

__“And that means spending the rest of my life staring at blurry security camera footage,” grumbled Frank._ _

__Ms. Bradbury was hovering again. “My facial recognition software could-”_ _

__“...Not to any better job than _my_ facial recognition software.”_ _

__“Frank, we got a photo of the victim,” said Dean, pulling a photo out of a manilla folder. “And we got....”_ _

__“I heard you got sketches. From Rosen,” grumbled Frank. “She missed her calling doing 'Love Is' comics. What?” he added when Dean held up Castiel's drawing. “Holy shit.”_ _

__Benny set the box down rather insistently on Frank's desk. “You get to work now, son?”_ _

__“I'll get out my facial recognition software for this,” Frank said of the one drawing. “Bradbury?”_ _

__“Yeah, boss?” asked the redhead._ _

__Frank held out Castiel's drawing of the other kid. “I tell you what, you to write some 'back of some dude's coat' software.”_ _

__She looked dubious, but took the drawing._ _

__Dean smirked at Benny, and they departed the office, ascended the stairs, and returned to hustle and bustle of the first floor squad room. “Hey, Dean, Benny! I think you'll wanna see this!” Donna shouted at them. She and Sam Winchester were hovering over a map that had been spread out over the clutter on Donna' desk._ _

__“What's the word, Sammy?” asked Dean._ _

__“Donna's been conducting interviews with some of the witnesses, and she wanted me to see this anomaly.”_ _

__“Anomaly? You guys find Big Foot?”_ _

__Donna started to ramble, as was her custom. “This here is a contour map of the park – my second cousin Muriel is workin' as a ranger and got it to me. She's a real nice girl, though a bit on the serious side, like her daddy. Anywho, I talked to the two folks your Mr. Novak says he spotted talkin' to the boys as they made their way around-”_ _

__“You found both of them? Awesome!” said Dean._ _

__“I had some help from Jo Harvelle of course, she's shaping up to be good police, make her mama real proud-”_ _

__“Officer Hanscum?” prompted Sam, who was a bit less patient than his brother. “The witness statements?”_ _

__“Oh, yes,” she said, seizing the map. “Now, the first gentleman, he talked to the boys somewhere 'round here. They told him they were lookin' for the little boy's Mama. Now, I don't think he believed 'em, and he felt pretty bad about it later, seeing as how there have been child abductions recently-”_ _

__“And the second witness?” Dean interrupted, as Sam looked like he was getting ready to blow._ _

__“That would be over here.” Donna marked up her second cousin's map with a felt tip marker. “This lady said they said they were going to the police. Well, don't that just toot your horn!”_ _

__“So it matches Cas's story?” asked Dean._ _

__“Yeah, they confirmed the conversations.”_ _

__Sam tugged the map away from Donna. “But Dean, does anything strike you as odd here?”_ _

__“That Castiel character strikes me as odd,” Benny laughed. “But I'm not seein' how he could have overhead them both unless he also has super-hearing.”_ _

__“What?” Dean leaned over and peered at the map._ _

__“And he couldn't have seen 'em both from one place,” said Donna, tracing her finger along the winding pathway. “Trees in the way.”_ _

__“That's the Bitterroot for ya,” said Benny. “Too many goddam trees.”_ _

__“Was he following the kids?” Sam asked. “And if he was – why?”_ _

__“I dunno,” said Dean. “Maybe he saw the first guy, that got his suspicions up....”_ _

__“Or maybe he was in on it the whole time,” said Benny._ _

__“But then why was Gabe trying to help us?”_ _

__“Maybe to take suspicion off his little brother? Hey, you'd do the same, you know you would!”_ _

__Dean glanced at Sam, and nodded in agreement. “We gotta interview Novak again I guess,” he muttered._ _

__The discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Chief Henricksen, clearly in a foul mood. Or at least a worse mood than usual. “All right, all right, who's the snitch?” he demanded of the squad room. There were several confused looks and shrugs._ _

__“What?” asked Dean, looking around._ _

__Henricksen snorted and grabbed a remote control, which he pointed at an ancient TV monitor and clicked._ _

__Nothing happened._ _

__Cursing, Henricksen shook the remote, clicked again, and then began beating it on the desk. “No no no,” said Donna, going over and liberating it from his frustrated grasp. “You gotta be gentle with it. Here ya go.” To the Chief's dismay, Donna hit a button and the TV fired up._ _

__The screen showed the insufferably cheerful RNN reporter, Joyce Bicklebee. She was set up in front of a very familiar-looking house._ _

__Dean stepped forward. “Shit, that's Novak's house! Turn up the sound!”_ _

___“...are reporting that they have identified a person of interest in the terrible child abductions that have been plaguing our community. The individual is identified as Castiel Novak, who resides here along with his father, novelist Carver Edlund.”_ _ _

__“Oh, I didn't know Carver Edlund lived there!” said Donna._ _

__The camera switched to a wide shot: a mob had already gathered outside the house, and they didn't sound pleased. A single police officer was trying to keep them back, but looked about to be overwhelmed._ _

__“Is that Jo?” asked Dean._ _

__It was, in fact, Officer Harvelle. On the television screen, Castiel Novak and his brother Raphael appeared at the front door, and that's when thing began to get ugly. There were shouts, and someone threw a bottle. It missed Castiel by a mile, but then someone thew a rock that hit Jo in the head._ _

__The room went silent._ _

__In an instant, Castiel was there next to Jo. Dean saw something odd, just for a fraction of a second, like a large dark shadow enveloping him and Jo. Cas whisked the injured officer back towards the house, away from the mob. Meanwhile, Raphael, calm as you please, pulled out a violin case, and began to play._ _

__...What?_ _

__“Get going!” boomed Henricksen. “Now!”_ _

__The detectives snapped out of their collective trance and scrambled out the door. Dean found himself staring at his younger brother as he got to his car. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”_ _

__“I'm coming along, no arguments,” said Sam, who was already impatiently grabbing the passenger side handle. “My star witness may be in danger.”_ _

__“Follow me, I know the way!” Dean shouted to Benny and Donna as they hopped into another cruiser. And then it was sirens and flashing lights out of downtown, past the university, and out too the foothills, where they discovered, to their surprise, absolutely nothing going on._ _

__“What the fuck?” said Dean as he popped out of the car. The angry mob shown on the TV screen was nowhere in sight, although there was a news van, which was now packing up to go._ _

__Sam was scowling around. “Who's that guy?” he asked._ _

__Dean looked towards the Edlund house. There was now a tall man standing by the front door, playing with a yoyo. “He looks familiar.”_ _

__“Where's Jo?” asked Donna. “That's her car, right over there.”_ _

__“And where's the torches and pitchforks?” asked Benny._ _

__Dean squatted down and picked up a bottle. “I guess the mob went home? This is weird.” Some of the garden had been trampled, and there were muddy footsteps on the path, but he didn't see a single torch or pitchfork._ _

__“The last I saw Officer Harvelle she was headed into the Edlund place,” said Sam, who was obviously itching to get in._ _

__“I guess we need to go and ask,” said Dean._ _

__“I'm gonna go have a chat with our friendly local RomanNewsNetwork anchor lady,” said Benny, who walked over towards the van._ _

__“You might wanna stay back, Sammy,” Dean whispered as he and Donna made for the house._ _

__The man on the front porch continued to lean casually on the doorframe, playing with his yoyo. “Hey,” said Dean._ _

__The man looked up, and executed a very lovely walk the dog. “Good evening.”_ _

__A light bulb went on in Dean's memory. “Ezekiel?”_ _

__“You have a long memory, Officer Winchester.”_ _

__“I go by _Detective_ Winchester these days.” _ _

__“My congratulations.”_ _

__“What are you doing here, Zeke?”_ _

__“I go by Gadreel, these days.”_ _

__“Can't get in the house without an alias?”_ _

__Zeke or Gadreel or whoever he was smirked. He had been a person of interest in a couple of execution-style killings. Frustratingly, nothing was ever proved, and the cases went cold. On the other hand, all of the victims had been very bad men, so Dean couldn't say they were much missed._ _

__“We're looking for Officer Harvelle. Think you can help us out?”_ _

__At that point, the door opened. “Detective Winchester!” said Castiel. “It's good to see you.”_ _

__“Yeah, we were just stoppin' by for pie, Cas.”_ _

__Castiel scrunched up his face in puzzlement. “We might have some apple pie left in the fridge. I don't think we have any more ice cream, however, as Gabriel finished it off-”_ _

__“I'm joking, Cas.”_ _

__“We're lookin' for one of our own. Officer Harvelle,” said Donna._ _

__Castiel smiled at Donna. “Oh, Jo! Yes, she is here. Would you like to see her?”_ _

__“Yeah, as a matter of fact, we'd like to see her,” said Dean._ _

__Gadreel scowled, but Castiel nodded to him, and he backed off. “This is Officer Hanscum, and the big guy is my brother, Sam Winchester,” Dean explained._ _

__Both of the newcomers looked around, and Donna exclaimed, “Golly jeebus, ain't this fancy?”_ _

__“We're glad you think so!” laughed Gabriel, who appeared in a doorway to a room off the main hallway. “Come on, we're just sitting down in the parlor.” Donna followed him. After exchanging a look with his brother, who gestured towards Castiel, Dean followed her._ _

__“Jo!” came Donna's happy cry. She had found Jo sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over her shoulders, holding a cup of tea. She had a bandage wrapped around her head. “Jo, are you all right, honey?” asked Donna._ _

__Chuck, who was sitting beside her, remarked, “We were just sitting down for supper when there was a little scuffle outside.” He sipped his tea which, Dean reckoned from the smell, had something a little stronger than chamomile in it._ _

__“Scuffle?” said Dean. “Looked like a riot to me.”_ _

__Jo sat her teacup down on a doily. “Yeah, I'm a little muzzy. But they brought me in here to sit down for a while.”_ _

__“Where did everybody take off to, Jo?” asked Dean as Donna helped her up. “The guys with the rocks and bottles?”_ _

__“Oh, Raphael played! It was nice,” she said. Dean noticed she was a little cross-eyed._ _

__“Tell ya what, darling,” fussed Donna, “we'll get you on down to the ER, and maybe have a chat with the docs there. How does that sound?”_ _

__“You don't want to stay and watch _Corazon de Azul_?” asked Chuck. “You're all welcome!”_ _

__“Think we'll take a raincheck,” said Donna, as she led Jo out._ _

__“You come back any time!” Chuck told her. “She's a nice young lady.”_ _

__Dean noticed Gabriel had bent down to put a DVD in the player. “You should invite Judge Singer down some time for a binge watch with your father. He's nuts for the show. He actually rearranges his chambers so he won't miss an episode.”_ _

__“He should definitely come down then,” laughed Gabriel as the TV flicked on to an image of a handsome, mustachioed man wearing an eye patch riding on a white stallion. He rode up to a beautiful woman, and leapt off the horse. She immediately whirled around to turn her back on him, an they began to declaim in Spanish._ _

__“Wait, what season are you watching?” Dean asked him. “I didn't think eye patch dude was back from the war.”_ _

__Gabe put a finger to his lips and pulled Dean aside. “Shh. I got a connection down at the Spanish-language station. Pop loves his _Corazon de Azul_ , so I get it a month ahead of everyone else.”_ _

__“What, seriously? Bobby Singer would kill for that!”_ _

__Gabriel was leading Dean out of the room with the television, down the hall to a kitchen. Sam was sitting at the table while Castiel made coffee. Cas was putting every bit of concentration into pushing on a French press._ _

__“I did a little legal work for _Cielo Grande_ , the local Spanish language station,” Gabriel explained. _ _

__Sam's attention shifted quite suddenly over to Gabriel. “I thought you were a criminal defense attorney?”_ _

__Gabriel took a seat. “Oh, I do a little of this, a little of that. Cassie, can you get me a cup too? I'm not a tea man. Especially the way Dad drinks it.” Gabriel mimed tippling with a flask._ _

__“Can I get a little something extra with the coffee?” asked Dean._ _

__“You can have anything you want. Not every day I have The Moose over for coffee.” He pounded Sam on the shoulder, and Sam made a minimal effort not to look smug. He didn't do a very good job._ _

__“You a sports fan, Gabe?” asked Dean._ _

__“Isn't everybody?”_ _

__“Did Mr. Winchester engage in a sporting activity?” Castiel inquired._ _

__“Except my bro. Cassie, Mr. Winchester engaged in bouncing a ball and shooting it through a hoop.” He mimed a free throw. “Best point guard in the school history.”_ _

__“So, if you're through buttering my my little brother, remind me, what was the case?” Dean pressed. “I mean, with K-CIEL?”_ _

__Gabriel shrugged as Castiel set a mug of coffee before him. “What do you think? RomanNewsNetwork wanted to grab it. Cas?” Without a word, Castiel set out creamer and a sugar bowl, and Gabriel helped himself to plenty of both. “Yeah, you guys know the Murder House?”_ _

__“The one up in the hills near here?” asked Sam. Actually, he didn't need to ask. Everybody knew the Murder House – it was a local legend. One day, back in the 1950s, just before Christmas, the dad of the house had gone nuts. He'd stabbed his wife, and then tried the same thing on his teenage kids. The kids had thankfully escaped when one of them managed to get to a neighbor's house. But then the house stood empty for months and years and finally, decades. It was widely understood to be haunted. It was also said, if you were brave enough to peek in the windows, you could still see the wrapped Christmas presents under the tree. It goes without saying that every teenager within 20 miles needed to prove his or her mettle by doing just that._ _

__Everybody knew about the Murder House._ _

__“Yeah. Roman Enterprises bought it, to convert it into a local headquarters.”_ _

__“What? Why?” asked Sam. “They wanted to set up in the Murder House?”_ _

__Gabriel shrugged. “Anyways, that's how I got to be buddies with Edgar Allen.”_ _

__Cas was pressing a cup of coffee into Dean's hands. Dean paused a moment, smiling. “Hey, thanks Cas.”_ _

__“Get a room,” chuckled Gabriel._ _

__Dean glowered at Gabriel. “So, wait a minute, I thought Edgar was just the mall manager dude?”_ _

__“Edgar is Richard Roman's right hand man,” said Castiel._ _

__“Gabe, call me slow-”_ _

__“OK, you're slow, Dean-o.”_ _

__“But you go piss off Edgar, a Roman stooge, and suddenly RomanNewsNetwork is on your front lawn, accusing your brother of being a child murderer? You guys see any connection?”_ _

__“Did you provoke Edgar again, Gabriel?” sighed Castiel. He was still standing, leaning against the counter. Dean stood beside him, looking back and forth between the brothers. The Edlund household might not be related by blood, but they certainly acted with the familiarity of a family._ _

__“Well, I might've. Look, he's a douche! A major douche! A douche-burger with douche sauce and a side of douche fries!”_ _

__Sam sat back and smiled. “Bobby would probably agree, if Mr. Allen's been messing with his _Corazon de Azul_.” _ _

__Gabriel wasn't finished. “And Richard 'Dickhead' Roman? He's even worse.”_ _

__Dean felt his phone buzz. “Chief Henricksen?” he said, as he took the call. “Yeah. Has Donna checked in with you? Yeah, she's right, everything is A-OK. No, I'm not kidding.” Dean looked at Gabriel and Castiel. “I'm on the line with the chief. You guys want us to have someone here? Just to watch out for the next 24-48 hours?”_ _

__“I think we're good,” said Gabriel._ _

__“Kindly thank the captain, and tell him we will call him if the situation changes in any way,” Castiel added._ _

__“Yeah, they think they're OK here,” Dean told Henricksen. “And Chief? We're thinking the RomanNewsNetwork thing may have been retaliation of some kind. We'll talk about it when we get back.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket and nodded at Sam._ _

__“So you'll get downtown for the deposition tomorrow?” Sam asked Cas, casually as could be._ _

__“Yes, Mr. Winchester,” Cas said solemnly. “I and my family will offer any assistance you require in this matter. It is of grave concern to us all.”_ _

__Benny's voice was coming from the front door. “Well, you invitin' me in, or ain't you?” Dean grinned and, setting down his cup, headed back towards the front of the house. He poked his head out the door to see Benny squaring off with Gadreel. “I don't go where I ain't invited!” Benny blustered._ _

__“It's all right, I think we're done in here,” Dean told him. He and Sam said their goodbyes to Castiel and Gabriel, and then headed down the path towards their car. Benny, after making a very determined, “I'm watching you!” gesture towards Gadreel (who, for the record, smirked and played with his yoyo), hurried on after Dean and Sam._ _

__“You're deposing Cas?” Dean whispered to his brother. “As a witness, or a suspect?”_ _

__“This case started off weird and keeps getting weirder,” Sam mused. “I just wanna get him on the record with all of this.” His brow furrowed. “Especially if Richard Roman or Roman Enterprises is involved. I don't disagree with Gabriel about him.”_ _

__“I just have no idea why they'd be mixed up in it. Benny, you get anything from that anchor chick, Joyce whatsername?”_ _

__“Bicklebee,” Benny grumped. “An' I got nothin'. Even ran the plates on the van, but not even an unpaid parkin' ticket.”_ _

__“Damn. Then why were they so dead set against us getting the security cam footage?” asked Dean._ _

__“Could be connected to our case,” said Benny, who was counting on his fingers. “Could be somethin' else funny goin' on....”_ _

__“Could be they're just good citizens who know their rights,” said Sam._ _

__“Aw, you always gotta go spoilin' the fun, don't you, Mr. Moose?” said Benny with a grin._ _

__Sam huffed, moose-style. “Look, you guys bring me something solid, we can drag Mr. Allen downtown for a meeting.”_ _

__Dean felt the phone at his hip buzz again. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “It's Frank. This may be something solid. I'm heading back down to headquarters.”_ _

__“I might stop by the med center and see how Officer Harvelle is doin',” Benny offered. “I know her mama worries about her.”_ _

__“I'll text Jess to see if she can stop by too,” said Sam, who started madly typing at his phone._ _

__“Sounds good,” said Dean, watching his partner walk off to his rattletrap truck. Sam was leaning against the Impala with a dumb smile. “What?”_ _

__“Just, it's good working with you, Dean,” said Sam, because his was just an oversized girl._ _

__“Get in the damn car.”_ _

__Dean didn't say it, but it was cool working with his dumb little brother. Growing up hadn't been easy. Their mom had died in a house fire when Sam was just a baby. And as for their father, well, as Bobby said, he had a taste for the drink. That left Dean a step or two ahead of Social Services, and Dean had taken to petty crimes once in a while to keep the food on the table. Fortunately for the Winchester boys, Judge Singer had taken an interest in his case. He had given Dean a choice: serious jail time, or a stint away in service of his country. Dean had opted for the Marine Corps, and Bobby and Karen Singer had watched over Sam with as much love and devotion as any parents. And then when Karen suddenly passed, Sam had helped the old man endure._ _

__To absolutely no one's surprise, John Winchester spent his last days in a VA hospital, his liver mostly gone and his mind as well. Dean had come back home to bury his father, convinced he would be no longer of much use to anyone in his backwater town. But the town he returned to was much different, as the local university brought both new opportunities and new problems. Plus, the brand spanking new chief of police, Victor Henricksen, was recruiting, and very much wanted a local boy with a military background on his team. Dean long suspected Bobby had put Henricksen up to it all, but to his surprise, he took to police work like a pig to wallowing (as Bobby might put it), and ended up earning his shiny detective shield in record time._ _

__“That's one weird family.”_ _

__Dean blinked over at his brother. He turned down the stereo. “The Edlund household, you mean?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“Weirder than us?”_ _

__Sam laughed. “We're not weird! Just a couple standard deviations off the mean...”_ _

__“My brother the geek!”_ _

__“My brother the jerk!”_ _

__“Bitch!”_ _

__Now both brothers were grinning. “Like I said, Dean, we make a good team.”_ _

__“So, we're Super Friends? Which one of us is that bucket of water kid.”_ _

__Sam snorted. “Definitely you! But you know, that Castiel guy?”_ _

__“I know. You don't trust 'em.”_ _

__“I get the feeling what he's saying is strictly true. But it's maybe not the whole truth?”_ _

__“Maybe,” Dean admitted. “What's your take on Gabe?”_ _

__“That's another thing that doesn't fit. He comes off like a sleaze bucket, but you can't underestimate him. He's actually a damn good defense attorney – maybe the best I've met. Made my conviction rate plummet when he showed up. Annoying! That's why it confused me when he said he also did work for the TV station. Corporate law is a whole different ball of wax! And if he was up against Roman, they would have spared no expense in throwing legal muscle at him. I've never heard of someone who was that good at such disparate specialties.”_ _

__“I saw him take on Edgar. He really loves twisting the knife. And he's good at what he does.”_ _

__Sam looked at Dean. “I know this is a case you wanna solve, Dean. But throwing in Roman Enterprises and the Edlund household? That's added a lot of weird to the mix.” Sam's phone rang, and he picked it up. “Hey, Jess! I wondered if you could- Oh. Oh! Uh.... Yeah...”_ _

__Dean glanced over at his brother, who had quite suddenly gotten very flustered. _“What?”_ he mouthed, but Sam waved him off. He was pale when he finally hung up. “Is Jess headed to the hospital?”_ _

__“Uhhh, yeah.”_ _

__Dean raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”_ _

__“She's heading over....”_ _

__“OK.”_ _

__“From her parents's house....”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Where we were having dinner tonight. Dean! I totally forgot.”_ _

__“Ouch!” Dean gritted his teeth, feeling his brother's pain. He jerked the wheel and the Impala skidded into a sudden right turn._ _

__“Dean what? I thought you had to get back to headquarters?”_ _

__“Change in plans, buddy. We're stoppin' by the florist. You need a couple million roses right about now.” He grinned and drove on._ _


	6. Chapter 6

Sam sat in his office and dribbled his basketball. It helped him think.

His brother had saved the day for him – after the SNAFU with forgetting dinner at the Moore household, he and Dean had showed up back at Sam and Jess's house along with groceries and a bottle of wine and a couple dozen red roses. And then Jess had helped Dean prepare his famous burgers (they were delicious) and there were a few glasses of wine and remarks about how Jess was totally out of Sam's league (true!). Things maybe weren't totally cool, but they'd get by. He was a charmer, Dean was. But there was a big heart under the bluster, and that's what Jess responded to.

But it wasn't last night that was itching on Sam's Moose mind right now. Still bouncing the ball, he swung his feet off his cluttered desk, out the door, and dribbled all the way over to another office. 

“Hey, Andy!”

His assistant, ADA Andy Gallagher, peered up from behind a stack of paperwork. “Sam, I'm kind of-”

“Here ya go!” Sam passed the ball to Andy, who barely caught it, but also managed to topple over some files. 

“Dammit.” Andy clumsily tossed the ball back and bent down to retrieve the files.

“Aw, forget it! Come on out back, shoot some hoops with me.”

“I got work to do,” groused Andy. “And anyway you're about nine feet taller than me.”

“I need to think about something.” Sam sat down, continuing to dribble.

Andy pulled the spilled files back to the center of his desk and sighed. “All right, what?”

“Roman Enterprises.”

“Ew.”

“What do they have to do with our child abduction case?”

Andy pursed his lips and stared into the distance for a while. “Wait, you mean that Novak guy who didn't actually abduct the child?”

“Yeah. So, what does Roman Enterprises have to do with it?” Sam spun the ball on one finger. 

“Uh, I'll go with _absolutely nothing _for $300, Alex.”__

__“But the guy at the Roman mall didn't wanna release the security tapes. We had to get a subpoena.”_ _

__“The Roman mall? What Roman mall?”_ _

__“Our shopping center now belongs to Roman Enterprises, evidently.”_ _

__Andy pulled a face. “Ugh, I'm gonna leave town.”_ _

__“Why, Andy?”_ _

__“I've seen Dick Roman on TV. He's a Dick.”_ _

__“They also wanted our TV station – K-CIEL?”_ _

__Quite suddenly, Andy, who had been half-listening, perked up. “Wait! They show Corazon de Azul!”_ _

__“Yeah, that one. They were gonna buy the Murder House and use it as an office.”_ _

__“The Murder House?” Andy actually knew about that one. “Holy shit.”_ _

__“You nearly did holy shit, ha!” Many years ago, Sam had honored a teenage dare by driving up to the Murder House, in the company of a few other brave young souls, including none other than Andy Gallagher, who brought the beer. In actuality, none of them wanted to stay long – for some reason, the place just gave everybody the creeps, especially after dark. But Andy, to his eternal regret, had been the one unlucky enough to voice these sentiments._ _

__“OK, you know what, Winchester? That house was creepy as fuck. You know it, and so do I.”_ _

__Sam bounced the basketball for a while. “Yeah, I guess so.” They sat in silence for a moment._ _

__“So, you gonna get the hell outta my office so I can get through this paperwork?”_ _

__Sam stood up, but he didn't leave. “Andy, would you do me a solid?”_ _

__“Oh, you will so totally owe me!”_ _

__“I got a deposition coming in. Would you tell 'em to wait? I just wanna check on something at the Clerk's office.”_ _

__“Check on what?” Andy asked, but Sam was already leaving._ _

__“Who owns the Murder House.”_ _

__“Ah. Shut the door, OK? Hey! Sam!” But Sam left it ajar, bouncing all the way. “Stupid Moose,” Andy grumbled, pulling out his scrambled paperwork.”_ _

__

__After doing what he could to save his brother's hide, and what with one thing and another, Dean wasn't able to talk to the police department's tech crew until late the next day. When finally he headed down the dark, narrow staircase down to their basement office, he found both techs buzzing around a computer monitor – Charlie a red wasp and Frank a fat bumblebee._ _

__“So waddya got for me?”_ _

__Frank opened his mouth. “I'll show you the facial recognition-”_ _

__“We should show him the back-” Charlie snapped._ _

__“We'll start with the front.”_ _

__“What about the back?”_ _

__“Start front and go back!”_ _

__“That's backwards!”_ _

__“Both of you!” Dean barked. The techs cringed, and Dean pulled the monitor around so he could see it. “Tell me what I'm seeing.”_ _

__Frank smirked at Charlie, who stuck her tongue out at him. “This is the result of my facial recognition software,” Frank explained._ _

__“Which I upgr-!” Charlie started, but she was put off by Dean’s glower._ _

__Dean watched ghostly images flicker over the screen, people walking up and down one of the mall's brightly lit main corridors. Two figures entered a shop opposite the camera. The scene changed, and they came out again, hand in hand. “That’s the kid! That’s Ben! And Mrs. Braeden!” It was a start. “You got the datestamps on this stuff?”_ _

__“Yeah, it seems to match up with the mother's recollections so far.” Frank leaned forward and the images whisked past. “The go in and out of a couple more shops.”_ _

__“This is data from a couple cameras that I- we edited together,” Charlie explained._ _

__“Now look here, we got a blind spot,” said Frank, tapping an index finger on the screen. The perspective had switched to a view from high up inside a shop, looking out the door. It looked like a place that sold upscale kitchen gadgets. Miss. Braeden and Ben entered a store. “This is a few minutes later,” said Frank, fast forwarding the video again. Little Ben again wandered into view, though there was no sign of his mother. He looked out the door, and appeared to say something. He did a funny little dance, walking back and forth, just inside the shop, but kept looking outside, just beyond the sight of the camera._ _

__“Is he talking to someone?” asked Dean, who was getting frustrated that he couldn't jiggle the camera for a better look._ _

__“Wait,” said Frank. “You'll see.” All three of them held their breath, even though all of this had happened days ago. Little Ben danced around a little more: a couple of jerky jumping jacks, and then hopping on one foot. And then...._ _

__Charlie let out a little cry and Frank jumped back in his chair._ _

__“What the fuck?” Dean stood there, catching his breath while Frank hit some computer keys to stop the video. Frank was actually holding his chest, sweating. Dean felt a chill. There was something on that video and … it wasn't right somehow._ _

__“Jump scare,” said Charlie, who was rolling her eyes fanning herself with a manila folder. “Damn, it gets me every time.”_ _

__“What?” said Dean. Something had appeared on the screen, just for an instant – something that had been lurking past the doorway._ _

__“You know, like that video game?”_ _

__“This ain't a video game, pussycat,” Frank grunted. He hit the keyboard, and the video continued. Little Ben stared, and finally, hopped out of the store and disappeared._ _

__“What was that? Go back, go back!” said Dean._ _

__Frank backed it up frame by frame while Charlie hopped onto her laptop and began madly typing. “It's literally only a frame,” said Frank._ _

__Dean peered at the screen. “Wait, that's it? That's all?”_ _

__“That's all,” said Frank._ _

__“That's not what I saw!” Dean declared._ _

__“This is exactly what you saw.”_ _

__Charlie turned her laptop screen around so Dean and Frank could see. “This is the best we could do, but it's only partial.” Just for a moment, someone waiting outside the door reached in, and was captured by the camera._ _

__Dean was still “But that's.... Is that all it was? Are you sure?”_ _

__“We went through frame by frame, muffin cakes,” Frank told Dean. “This is it.”_ _

__“Then maybe it's … between the frames?”_ _

__“There's nothing between the frames. This is it!”_ _

__Dean shot a glare at Frank. This seemed too small, too innocuous for what he had experienced. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and switched his attention to Charlie's laptop. Someone was reaching out towards young Ben. Whoever – or whatever – it was, they were wearing a silver and maroon jacket._ _

__“Grizzlies jacket. Like Cas saw,” muttered Dean._ _

__“Could be,” Frank agreed. “But do you see the bigger issue here?” Frank and Charlie exchanged a glance that, for once, wasn't hostile._ _

__Dean sat back. It had occurred to him too. “The kid or kids are acting like they knew where the camera was.” He mulled this over a moment – like Sam had said, this was turning into a mess of weird. “So, you guys get a chance to look for the alleged kidnappers yet?”_ _

__“It's still running,” grumbled Frank, “because _someone_ uses a lot of resources.” He shot a glare at Charlie._ _

__“Because someone hasn't got off his ass to get us resources,” Charlie shot back, and it was back to bickering. Dean was about to beat a hasty retreat, but just then his partner came stomping down the staircase._ _

__Benny waved his cell phone. “Y'all gotta teach me to look between the frames!”_ _

__Charlie rolled her eyes and Frank huffed. “What is it with you people?” Frank demanded. “There's nothing between the frames!”_ _

__“There's somethin' between the frames on this news report,” Benny retorted._ _

__Dean leaned over to look at the phone screen. “That your buddies at RNN's report from last night?” he asked. Benny had paused the video at the bit they had been watching in the squad room last the last evening, where the crowd got rowdy and began to attack Jo Harvelle. Dean peered at the phone and recognized the same flash of … something he'd seen before, as Castiel hurried out to help her._ _

__“Last night, after we left the Edlund place, I headed by the hospital to talk to Jo,” said Benny. “She claimed she don't remember nothin'. But then I talked to your brother's lady friend-”_ _

__“Jess,” said Dean, remembering how angry she'd been when Sam forgot about his dinner plans._ _

__“Yeah. She tol' me when she first came in, Jo wouldn't stop ravin' about bein' wrapped up in wings.”_ _

__“Wings?” asked Dean. He grabbed the phone and thumbed the video. Yes, there was something there – a shadow – but just for a fraction of a second._ _

__“Jump scare,” sighed Jo, who had been leaning over Dean's shoulder. “You guys know how to Google?”_ _

__“This ain't a jump scare, Charlie,” said Dean. “I'm not scared. I'm-” What was it? Comforted? He gazed at the phone, looking for answers that weren't there._ _

__“There is nothing between the frames!” Frank insisted. “Now get outta here so we can crank your data!”_ _

__“That process is automated,” Charlie retorted, but Dean had had enough, so he gestured to Benny, and they retreated back up to the squad room._ _

__“Wings, Benny?” Dean asked._ _

__“I thought her eggs had been scrambled, but you can see it on the damn the tape. I don’t care if that damn basement troll thinks there ain’t nothing between the frames – I saw what I saw. An’ you saw it too, didn’t you?”_ _

__Dean was going to reply, but he saw Donna waving at him from across the room. She pointed to his desk. There was a woman sitting there. Dean gestured to Benny._ _

__“Oh, man. You want me to come with ya?” asked Benny._ _

__Dean nodded, and they made their way over to her. “Miss DeAngelo?” Dean asked._ _

__“Oh, Detective Winchester!” she trilled. “And Detective Lafitte. How nice to see you.”_ _

__Dean shot a look at Benny, who seemed just as confused as he. This was little Freddie DeAngelo's mom, the boy who had disappeared a month to the day after that terrible day they had discovered Justin Fogler's remains by the railroad track._ _

__This was a tough one. The DeAngelo household was well known to the local police force, as well as Social Services. They had at least one 911 call from a frightened neighbor when the little boy was evidently spotted playing out on the roof, and other neighbors reported it was not unusual to hear him riding his tricycle up and down the sidewalk at 1 am. And no one seemed entirely certain who all was living in the house, and what their relationships were among them._ _

__But Marva DeAngelo's report of little Freddie's disappearance struck a chord in Dean: her story read like a grim repeat of the Fogler abduction, with only the names and places changed. His mother had taken him out on a shopping trip, had turned around, and he was gone. And, distressingly, no one had seen anything of the people who may have spirited him away._ _

__Other than that one weird report of a lady who claimed to have seen the boy dancing to some unheard music. Dean suddenly recalled the silent footage of Ben Braeden, dancing at the door of the kitchen store. He frowned, and decided to take another look at his witness notes._ _

__But here before him stood Marva. He had never found her to be especially coherent, but today her expression and every mannerism reflected, as Bobby liked to put it, someone who's been drinking to deeply on the Jesus juice. She simpered at Dean now, looking absolutely nothing like a mother worried over her missing preschooler._ _

__“I was wondering when you would be bringin' my little one back?”_ _

__“I'm sorry?” Dean frowned at her. Benny was standing just over Marva's shoulder, and gave a big shrug._ _

__Marva gripped her purse, clicking her fake nails on the clasp. “Well, I know he's alive and well now, so I imagine you'd be bringin' him back.”_ _

__Dean leaned closer. “You have information, ma'am?”_ _

__She batted her lashes at Dean, pushing back a wisp of blond hair. “Well, yes, of course. I've found the best psychic!”_ _

__Dean tried, with effort, not to roll his eyes. Benny, behind her back, made no such effort, and accentuated it all by making a circle around his ear with a thick index finger._ _

__“You have, have you?” Dean sighed._ _

__“And who might that be, ma'am?” Benny prompted._ _

__“Why, Rowena MacLeod, of course!” she gushed. “She has a connection to the world beyond.”_ _

__“Well ain't that just dandy?” said Benny, as Dean's attempts to shush him went nowhere._ _

__“Why, yes!” Marva told him, turning her wide eyes at him. “So I supposed you fellows would be bringing my boy home soon.”_ _

__“Well I tell you,” said Dean, “sounds like maybe my partner and me need to head out and have a chat with Mrs. MacLeod. Waddya think?” This last was directed mostly at Benny, who nodded grimly._ _

__“That would be wonderful!” said Marva, who looked as if she might swoon at the very thought. She stood. “I s'pose you'll have him back to me soon?”_ _

__“We'll contact you on the event that there is any news,” Dean told her._ _

__“Pleasure,” added Benny as she wafted off. He turned to Dean as soon as she was out of earshot. “What batch you suppose that one's been smokin', because I sure could do with some.”_ _

__“It would just give you the munchies,” Dean retorted. Benny chuckled, but Dean added, “I suppose we should go check up on our local psychic.”_ _

__“Speakin' of scrambled eggs – that gal is just a fraud, preyin' on simple folks.”_ _

__“Well, scrambled or sunny side up, we should go talk to her. Come on.”_ _

__

__Sam had dispensed with the basketball – they didn't take too kindly to it in the County Clerk's office. The Clerk was an older woman named Missouri Mosely, and she didn't take kindly to any foolishness. Dean actually refused to go there - “She'll be mean to me again!” Wimp!_ _

__She suffered Sam to gathering his real estate transaction records, even though she reminded him that it was not his specialty, and wasn't Jessica Moore pretty, and when were they going to file for a marriage certificate, and she just didn't understand young people these days._ _

__Meantime, Sam had convinced himself that the title to the Murder House (which was technically the Los Feliz Mansion) was - though a bit of back and forth that included the Cayman Islands - owned by none other than Roman Enterprises. Just as Gabriel Laufeyson had said. And that the DeAngelo kid had disappeared in that vicinity soon after the purchase._ _

__In his mind, this was too much of a coincidence._ _

__Sam leaned back and stretched. He glanced at the clock and realized he had really lost track of time. Jess would probably be on his case, but this was just too interesting._ _

__He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his brother. It should be near the end of Dean's shift – maybe they could meet out there, and just take a look around? They had canvassed the area pretty thoroughly after the DeAngelo kid, but maybe there was something they had missed?_ _

__Sam pocketed his phone and waved goodbye to Missouri, who grunted her disapproval._ _

__

__After a brief exchange of good-natured insults, the two detectives ended up in Dean's car, headed for a scuzzy neighborhood on the south side of the university._ _

__“Before I forget,” Benny asked, elbow jutting out the window, “Andrea wanted me to ask if that brother of yours gonna show up this weekend? Gonna be grillin' flank steak!”_ _

__Dean grinned. Benny's back yard barbecues were epic undertakings, but the fare wasn't especially to Jess's liking. “I'm surprised his steaks don't get up and walk away,” she had grumbled when Dean extended the invitation, though he noticed Sammy was already patting his stomach in anticipation. “We could bring a salad, Jess,” he had offered._ _

__“They'll be there – already planning the side dishes!” Dean offered._ _

__“Should be a good crowd. Bobby's bringin' that new lady friend of his, Professor Whatchajiggy.”_ _

__“That's her family name? Whatchajiggy?” Dean asked._ _

__“Weird name she'd got. Vlad?”_ _

__“Like The Impaler?”_ _

__“Vlasic?”_ _

__“Like the pickles?”_ _

__“Yep, Bobby's bringin' a pickle that's impaled on a toothpick. You got me. And who or what are you bringin' as a date, partner?”_ _

__Dean snorted and parked the car, as they'd just arrived at a small shop. There was a pink neon sign in one corner of the smudged front window depicting a hand, a moon, and a pyramid with the words, “PSYCHIC PALM READINGS” flashing underneath._ _

__“Psychic my left butt cheek,” Dean muttered as they exited Dean's car._ _

__“You don't believe in the forces beyond?” asked Benny._ _

__“You're not telling me you do?”_ _

__“There are more things on heaven and earth!” Detective Lafitte reasoned as he opened the front door. He could be a real asshole sometimes._ _

__The bell jingled and the detectives entered the cluttered storefront. There didn't seem to be anyone around, which was not unusual. Dean had long suspected the proprietor didn't make his money on any of the stuff going on in the front of the shop._ _

__“Ew, what's that?” Dean asked as Benny picked up something that looked like a desiccated tarantula._ _

__“That, gentlemen, is a genuine Hand of Glory,” blustered Fergus Crowley, who had just appeared from somewhere to behind the counter. He was a skinny little bastard, more or less college-age, dark-haired and blue-eyed, with tattoos festooning his arms, winding up underneath his ripped sleeves._ _

__He tipped his bowler hat. “Top o' the mornin' to you, officers. And what can I do for you?”_ _

__“Thought you were a Scotsman, Crowley,” grumbled Dean. Just dealing with the guy made him want to take a long shower._ _

__“Eh, it amuses the punters,” Crowley admitted, his accent immediately morphing to a low-pitched mid-Atlantic mode. “Much as I love dealing with our local men in blue, you're bad for business. Can we get on with it?”_ _

__“Ain't you we're after this time, Fergus,” said Benny, putting extra savor into Crowley's detested first name. “Where's your ma?”_ _

__Crowley's expression darkened. Relations between himself and his mother were strained, to say the least. “And may I inform her what this is about?”_ _

__“It's about none of your business, buddy,” Dean told him._ _

__“Fairrrrrrgus!” trilled a voice from somewhere else. Crowley cringed. Rowena's Scots accent was reputed to ripen depending on the amount of whiskey she had imbibed. Today it was toxic enough to peel paint. “Fairrrrgus, do we have guests?”_ _

__“It's the rozzers here for you, mum,” sulked Crowley, and even Dean had to feel a little sorry for him._ _

__A vision in silk emerged from the back room, with cascades of wild, red hair and thick mascara. “Oh, these handsome wee lads, here for me?” she cooed._ _

__“Ms. MacLeod,” said Dean._ _

__She fluttered coquettishly. “Mrs. MacLeod? You make me sound like I'm older than the hills!”_ _

__“You are older than most hills, and several mountain ranges,” Crowley griped._ _

__“Ms. MacLeod,” Dean valiantly pressed on while Benny grinned, “you reportedly told Ms. DeAngelo that you had information relevant to the disappearance of her son.”_ _

__“That poor, poor lassie. I was so sympathetic to her plight, as I reckoned the authorities had been no help at all!”_ _

__“Good that we're earnin' our paychecks,” said Benny._ _

__“Fortunately,” Rowena continued, pointing a withering glare at Benny, “the spirits were kind, and communed with the spirit of her missing wee bairn.”_ _

__“His spirit?” mused Dean. “Thought you told her he was alive and well?”_ _

__Rowena suddenly became terribly interested in some knick-knacks on the front counter. “Oh, Fairrrrgus, you really should dust in here.”_ _

__“Mum,” said Crowley, stepping beside her. “Tell them.”_ _

__“Tell them what?” Rowena murmured, avoiding his eyes, picking at the dust._ _

__Dean crowded in close to the counter. “Do you have any information?”_ _

__And then she went stiff, threw her head back and let out a moan. Dean hopped over the counter as just as she started to collapse, falling like a rag doll into Dean's arms._ _

__“Mum?” asked Crowley, who seemed honestly concerned._ _

__“Ms. MacLeod?” said Dean as he tried to lower her down to the floor in the cramped space. He heard Benny on his radio, calling for an ambulance. “Ms. MacLeod?”_ _

__Dean cried out as long nails dug into his bicep. She writhed around in his arms, both of them halfway to the floor, her hair wild, dress tangled. She stared at him, eyes gone red and mad._ _

__“The Bitterroot,” she whispered, clinging to him. “In the Bitterroot.”_ _

__As she spasmed, and then went limp on the floor, Crowley stood over her, fanning her with a magazine. “Mum, was it one of your spells? We need to get you to bed.”_ _

__“Got an ambulance five minutes out,” Benny reported._ _

__“She just needs rest,” muttered Crowley as Dean untangled himself from her._ _

__“Benny,” Dean whispered as they left, after the paramedics had finally arrived and began to squabble with Crowley over what should be done with his mother._ _

__“Yeah?”_ _

__“You get a good look? When she had her spell?”_ _

__Benny rubbed his chin. “What do you mean?”_ _

__“Her eyes!” Dean remembered, they were like hot coals. “They seemed … funny.”_ _

__“Like, funny haha?”_ _

__“The other kind.”_ _

__Benny gave him a look, and Dean didn't go any further with this line of discussion._ _

__Later, back at the station, he sat at his desk trying to write his report without making it sound … funny. The non-haha kind of funny. He guessed maybe Rowena's eyes were yet another thing that happened “between frames.” He liked his career as a police officer, and didn't relish the notion of being thought insane. He leaned further towards his computer monitor, wishing it was the old days of writing these things out by hand – at least he'd have a pencil to chew on!_ _

__“Hello, Dean.”_ _

__Talk about a jump scare! Dean was a cop, and before that, a marine. More than most anyone, he was very aware of his surroundings._ _

__But Castiel Novak had just … appeared over his desk._ _

__Dean looked around. There was actually no one else left in the squad room. “Dammit, Novak! Don't sneak up like that,” he groused._ _

__Cas blinked those wide, impossibly blue eyes in wonder at him, and Dean felt like a real jerk. “I apologize.”_ _

__“It's cool. What are you doin' here, anyway? Isn't it past your bedtime at the Edlund School for Boys?”_ _

__Cas was now not only batting his eyes, but tilting his head in the manner of a husky puppy trying to comprehend Beyonce's latest. “I'm sorry, Detective Winchester?”_ _

__“Why are you here, Cas?”_ _

__“Oh!” He straightened up again. Well, almost: he was always a little stooped, like he'd just gotten over scoliosis or something. “I am waiting for Sam Winchester, your brother.”_ _

__“Yeah, I know he's my brother. What's he done now?”_ _

__“I was supposed to give a deposition to him. But he did not show up for our appointment. According to Assistand DA Gallagher, he left the office, and never returned.”_ _

__“Huh.” Dean didn't actually mind the distraction – it was better than filing the stupid report. And Cas wasn't really bad to look at. If they'd met at a bar instead of at the station … but he was getting distracted. “What time were you supposed to meet?”_ _

__“9 am.”_ _

__Now it was Dean's turn to be confused. “You've been waiting since this morning?”_ _

__“I am a patient person.”_ _

__“Well, yeah.” Dean grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket, and realized that the damn thing had gotten turned off – probably when he was tussling with Rowena. “I'll give him a call, weird that he'd miss an appointment like that. He's the reliable moose and all of that....” The phone powered up, and then began madly beeping at him. “Dammit, missed some texts.”_ _

__As it turned out, Dean had missed rather a lot of texts, all of them from Sam Winchester, who, as we have noted, was his brother, and all of which either annoyed or alarmed Dean Winchester, who was a rather protective big brother. “Shit, shit, shit, Sammy, don't go there.... God dammit!”_ _

__“Is there anything wrong, Dean?”_ _

__“He's going to the Murder House.”_ _

__“And you don't think that's a good idea?”_ _

__“No, it's a terrible idea! Look, I gotta get out of here and head him off.” Dean turned to close out of his computer. “You just-”_ _

__But he was talking to an empty room._ _

__“The hell?”_ _

__Dean pocketed his phone and got the hell out of there._ _

__

___The Great Moose Detective._ _ _

__Sam chuckled to himself at Jess's barb. He need to watch that cartoon again – hadn't seen it since he was a kid._ _

__Assistant County attorney Samuel Winchester. And maybe some day, the Honorable Judge Winchester? Or perhaps Senator Winchester? It was all out there. Thanks to Bobby's watchful eye and Dean's utter devotion, he'd come a long way, and had a long way to go._ _

__But there was always something tugging at the edges: you could do more, you could be more. He remembered when Dean came back into town in that uniform, how Bobby's eyes had shown so brightly. Dean was something special._ _

__It seemed no matter where he went or what he did, Sam would still be Dean's baby brother. Now, as he stood in the quiet, chill air outside the Murder House, he wondered what he thought he was doing here, and what he had to prove._ _

__He checked his cell phone once again. Dean hadn't responded to his texts. The guy was probably busy. Busy doing real police work, as Jess would have reminded him. Still, as long as he was all the way out here, he might as well snoop around. There was just too much weird stuff going on, and he sensed something worthwhile was out here. Why was Roman moving into the area so aggressively lately? Sure, the area had been undergoing a small boom, but it wasn't exactly Silicon Valley! Why target their dumb little Spanish language station? And most of all, why establish an office so far out of the business district, especially in this notorious location?_ _

__Sam stared up at the house, but the cracking whitewashed walls offered not clue. It wasn't a spooky Victorian-style house, like you'd expect. Instead, it was vaguely Spanish-styled, with arched doorways and windows, and a roof constructed of mosaics of cracked red tile._ _

__As for the legendary Christmas tree still laden with unopened presents, you couldn't tell from the front of the house, as all the windows were boarded up, and the front door was behind a heavy chain and padlock. But according to those in the know, there were a couple ways to gain entrance. There was a back door, supposedly near the kitchen, with a weak latch, and also a window that led into the basement. Sam hadn't actually made it all the way inside when he'd come down her as a teen because, as happened to everyone, he'd been dared too. They had pulled up – three or four of them – snooped around for a few minutes, and then beat a hasty retreat to go drink some beer. There was something that just seemed _off_ about this whole area, though Sam couldn't put his finger on exactly what. _ _

__“So what now?” he asked himself. Seriously, he was an officer of the court – no way he was breaking into the house without a warrant. Or cause._ _

__Sam gripped his flashlight, but didn't turn it on. Instead, he carefully made his way towards the back of the property, towards that kitchen door with the wonky latch. He tried to stifle the uneasy feeling that was creeping up, and tried to tread lightly over the path. It was oddly quiet tonight: no wind, no cars passing, not even insect noises._ _

__He noticed as he rounded the corner towards the back of the house that one of the boards on a second floor window had come off. Unfortunately, it was too high up even for Sam to get a good view. Maybe a ladder? Maybe he would get a ladder and come back in the daylight. With Dean. Except, no, Dean would tell him he was an idiot. Actually, he _was_ an idiot. Sam finally clicked on his flashlight and moved the light over the ground. Yes, there was the back door, and it wasn't chained, although he was certain it was probably locked. He turned off the flashlight and stood for a while, considering if he should try the door._ _

__A hiss sounded from up above. Sam clicked off his flashlight and stared. Something flared up through the second floor window – an eerie blue light flashed and then was gone. A shadow passed in the window._ _

__Sam steeled himself. Maybe local kids had gotten inside?_ _

__“Probable cause? Probable cause!” Sam strode purposefully over to the back door and gave it a try. It was locked, but somehow pulled open anyway. “Tricky latch,” he whispered to himself. Brining the flashlight to life once again, he stepped into the dark kitchen and played the light around the room. Ugly 50s-era moss green appliances were there to greet him. “Ew.” He stopped to listen, but the house was silent. He poked in some cabinets, and then opened what he thought was a pantry, only to find a narrow staircase disappearing downstairs._ _

__“Scary basement, check,” Sam told himself. “Later maybe.”_ _

__He proceeded out of the kitchen into the main area of the downstairs. He paused at the bottom of a staircase heading up, and then headed over past the stairs to the large living room. “I'll be damned!” He crouched down beneath the dusty artificial Christmas tree and used the flashlight to poke at a couple of brightly-colored presents sitting there. “Seriously?”_ _

__But his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of floorboards squeaking upstairs. He sucked in a breath. The wind? There was no wind tonight. Kids! It was probably just kids. Nothing more._ _

__Backing away from the lonely Christmas tree, he once again approached the main staircase. The bedrooms, he knew, were upstairs, including the master bedroom where the murder had taken place. Spooky? Oh, hell yes!_ _

__He paused a moment to think about what Dean would do in this situation. Well, there was no question, was there? Slowly, he made his way up the staircase, straining to listen. But the only noise was the thud-thud-thud of his own heart beating in his ears. He looked back and forth down the hallway. The window where he'd seen the blue light was off towards the left, so he decided to go right first, and clear out those rooms. He tiptoed to the end of the hallway and pushed open the door. Seeing no movement, he chanced turning on his flashlight. This must have been the boy's room – cowboy-themed wallpaper, and a couple of dusty trophies were still on the bureau. But no one was there._ _

__He moved on. The next room was a bathroom, done in that disgusting green color. No wonder someone had been driven to murder._ _

__The next doorway led to another empty bedroom. There was a teddy bear, and a vanity table. He jumped slightly when his flashlight reflected in the mirror. The girl's room._ _

__That left the other end of the hall. The master bedroom. The blue light. If there was someone here, he (or she) must be in that room._ _

__Sam crept down the hall and paused outside the door. Unlike the other doors, it was closed. Carefully, he tried the handle, which twisted. OK, not locked. Holding his breath, he tightened his hand around the handle and threw the door open, whipping up his flashlight._ _

__This room, too, was empty._ _

__Also, oddly enough, it had been cleared. Maybe as a result of the police investigation? There was nothing: no bed, no dresser, not even a carpet. There were some odd markings on the floor, however, Sam crouched down to get a better look. He had never seen anything like this, not even in a murder investigation. Someone had marked out a pentagon-shaped drawing, and then at the corners were strange squiggles. Sam brushed a hand through one – it was marked in chalk, evidently, as the yellow powder came off in his hands._ _

__A bright blue light, like an old fashioned flashbulb, suddenly washed through the room. Sam fell back, momentarily blinded. When at last his eyes adjusted, there was someone standing in the center of the room, inside the chalk outline._ _

__“What the fuck?”_ _

__Sam soon got his answer. The figure spun around to face him._ _

__Sam gasped and scrambled out of the room. It didn't have a face. It was just … mouth. Dark, dark mouth and pointy teeth and Sam wanted to be out of here and far away. He ran down the hall and leapt down the stairs two and three at a time, pivoted and made for the kitchen. The door was in sight. He grasped the handle and pulled._ _

__The door was stuck._ _

__Footsteps sounded upstairs._ _

__Sam yelled, Sam pounded, Sam pulled, and Sam threw his entire body weight against it. It wouldn't budge. The footsteps pounded down the stairs. Panicked, he threw open the basement door and grabbed a kitchen chair. He braced the basement door with the chair and flew down into the basement, looking for that window that had been stuck half open. There it was! As something pounded on the door up above, he scrambled up on a shelf and heaved at the grimy window. It opened a crack and then stopped. He wiped the window with a sleeve. Bars! They had bars on the window._ _

__“Paranoid freaks!” he yelled._ _

__The basement door above pounded and pounded and then cracked, slamming open as Sam looked around desperately for a weapon._ _


	7. Chapter 7

“Dammit Sammy,” Dean grumbled to himself. Trust his dumb little brother to make a long, aggravating day even longer and more aggravating. Too much stuff happening between the frames these days, like Cas's shadow and Rowena's eyes. And now Sam, the world's most rational and methodical person, decided he needed to relive his teenage stupidity and visit the Murder House? What the hell? At best, he'd waste Dean's already wasted evening, but at worst he'd fuck up the investigation before it even started. Dean hoped like hell he could still intercept him before he tried to get into the house.

He grabbed his cell phone from the dashboard. Just his luck, his cell signal was fading out here. Fucking foothills. But the house was just ahead. He spotted Sam's car just before the turnoff. Why had he parked here, down below the drive? Trying to be sneaky? Yeah, like moose could sneak. 

Dean sighed and pulled up alongside He put the Impala in park and went to take a look at Sam's car. Definitely no Sam inside. He felt the hood. The engine was still a little warm, so it hadn't been long. He went back to his car and continued on up the gravel driveway. There was the Murder House, waiting silently at the end of the drive, but no Sam. 

Dean grabbed his flashlight and began to circle around the house, cursing that he hadn't gotten there fast enough. Sammy! He was going to have a talk with that boy, that is, if he didn't wring his neck first. Why the hell did he want to play detective now? Was he-

An upper story window flared up with a bright blue light. 

“What the hell? Sammy, what are you doing in there?” Dean aimed his flashlight at the window, but it was too high up to get a view. Was there someone there? Teens out on a dare, or a homeless guy making camp? 

Dean scanned around the overgrown yard, but didn’t see anything like a ladder. He glanced up at a big tree growing in the back yard. Damn, he hadn’t climbed a tree since he was a kid. He pulled himself up on a low branch and then found his footing. He craned his neck and, holding onto the trunk, stood up on tiptoe, but still couldn’t see in that upper window. 

Knocking! Dean nearly lost his balance when he heard. Someone was pounding at the back door. 

“Help!” 

Sam's voice! Cursing, Dean half jumped, half fell from the tree. A ripping sound accompanied him leaving a scrap of his jeans behind. “God dammit!” Dean bolted towards the door. “Sam!” Something slammed. He tried the back door, but it wouldn't budge. Pounding noises came from inside. “Sam!” he yelled again. A crash! 

He stepped back and kicked in the back door. He raised his weapon, yelling “Police!” and stepped inside.

Dean looked around, keeping his gun and flashlight both pointed forward. He was in a kitchen. He shined the flashlight around, but it was empty, though it looked like someone had broken the basement door. He stopped at the threshold, and was met by a dark silence. “Police!” he yelled down, but there was only silence.

He glanced around, wondering what to do, clear the house or run down to the basement? Dammit, this was bad. He needed backup. He was going to call in when an unearthly scream came from the basement, and then the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. Dean raised his gun and stepped back.

“Dean!”

Sam had nearly knocked him over. “Sam! What the hell!”

“I burned it! We gotta get outta here! Now!”

Sam grabbed the kitchen door handle and began frantically pulling at it. That was weird. When did the door close? Sam tugged wildly at it. Dean rolled his eyes, pushed his brother back, and pulled at it, but discovered it was stuck tight. 

“How is that stuck? Dammit, I just kicked this in!”

“Dean, we gotta go!” Sam was frantic, bodily dragging him from the kitchen. “Come on.”

“What the hell? What did-”

Dean heard footsteps: someone was now slowly marching up the basement stairs. 

“It's not dead! I burned it, but it's not dead!” Sam told him.

“Stay in back of me!” Dean ordered, aiming his gun at the doorway. “Police! Come out with your hands up!” he yelled towards the stairway.

At last, it reached the top of the steps. It was badly burnt, smelling of char. And it's head was.... It wasn't human. It wasn't _right._

Dean fired his weapon as it marched towards him. It stopped, black blood seeping from the gunshot.

It kept moving. Dean fired again. And again.

“Dean, we gotta get out of here!”

The brothers retreated to the living room, Dean keeping his weapon raised. “What the hell was that?” Dean demanded.

“I don't know. It wasn't in the room, and then it was.”

“What the fuck?”

“I burned it.”

Dean took a breath. Calm down. “OK. How did you burn it?”

“I threw some detergent in its eyes.”

“It has eyes?”

The thing now appeared in the doorway to the living room. It had no head, just a yawning dark mouth and lots of sharp teeth. “Is there a way out of here?” Dean asked.

“I can't find one! They barred the windows downstairs.” 

“Paranoid freaks!”

“And the kitchen door keeps locking.”

“Break a window?”

“The windows are all boarded.”

“Dammit, Sammy!”

The thing drew closer and closer. Dean fired his weapon again, and again, aiming for the maw, and a then a knee, but nothing seemed to slow it down.

Sam grabbed the poker hanging at the fireplace. He hefted it like a spear and chucked it at the approaching monster. It bounced off. The brothers backed up. It was cornering them. Dean stomped on a Christmas present. “Dammit!”

“Wait!” said Sam. He scrambled in back of the artificial Christmas tree and pulled it off the floor, clumsily tilting it over. Dean got the idea, holstered his gun, and grabbed on. 

“One, two, three!” shouted Sam. Like pole vaulters, they aimed the tree top at the monster and took a run at it. The aluminum pole ran right through the thing's abdomen, impaling it on the far wall. It sank down, oozing black blood.

A glass ornament fell from the tree and rolled and rolled on the floor.

Dean was bent over, hands on knees, panting. “Merry Christmas to you too, buddy,” he said.

Sam edged closer to the thing that was now impaled at the top of the Christmas tree. He picked up the ineffective fireplace poker that was lying on the carpet.

“Sam, do not poke it with a stick.”

“I'm not gonna-”

But Dean never got to hear what Sam was or wasn't gonna do, because whatever it was, it was now growling and snapping.

“Holy shit it's still not dead!” Dean cried, tugging his little brother away. 

“How is it still alive?” To their horror, the thing lurched to its feet, pulling the artificial tree out of the drywall. As they watched in terror, it pulled the tree from its midsection. Dean raised his weapon, but the monster hurled the tree at Sam and Dean, knocking them both of them off their feet, trapping them in a tangle of branches and tinsel. 

Dean struggled to reach his gun through the branches. The monster growled and came nearer.

A black shadow appeared in the center of the room. It opened and spread out, like the lifting of giant black wings, to reveal Castiel standing directly behind Gadreel.

“Dean, stay back!” Castiel yelled.

“I can’t move!” Dean yelled as he struggled out of the branches.

The thing turned towards the newcomers, howling at them. 

Gadreel had not one, but two yoyos today. 

“Why is he playing walk the dog?” yelled Dean.

Gadreel expertly flicked one yoyo and then the other at the monster. The lines whipped around the thing's neck. It halted, choking. And then Gadreel tugged at the strings, slicing the head cleanly right off the body. 

It dropped in its tracks, the head rolling away from the body before coming to a halt beside the fireplace.

Dean finally wrested his way out of the Christmas tree branches. He ran over to where Gadreel and Cas were now standing over the head.

“Stay back, my brother,” instructed Gadreel, holding out a hand.

“What now?” asked Dean.

As if in answer, Castiel crouched by the thing's body and poked at it with the fireplace poker.

The head growled and snapped.

“How is it not dead yet?” Dean asked. “I unloaded a gun into it. Sammy burned it! We ran it through with a freaking Christmas tree!”

“It is not of this earth,” Gadreel informed them calmly.

“OK,” said Sam, for whom this was clearly not OK. Dean reached over and pulled some tinsel out of his hair. “I think we got that part.”

“We need Raphael,” said Castiel. Gadreel nodded. He squatted down and picked up the thing's now headless body.

“Uh, I suppose as an officer of the law I should ask where the hell you think you're going with that,” Dean told Gadreel.

“We must keep the head away from the body,” Gadreel informed him. He nodded to Cas, who came and stood behind him. 

“Please wait for me here,” Cas told Dean. “And stay away from the head.”

“Yeah. We'll do that,” said Dean. The dark shadow – which Dean now saw was emerging from Cas – once more wrapped around Gadreel and the body, and then all three were gone.

“Between the frames,” sighed Dean.

“What?” asked Sam.

“Sam, what the hell were you thinking?” said Dean, as now there was nothing for him to do but wait for Cas and yell at his little brother. 

“How was I supposed to know there was a … a _thing_ here?” 

“You must’ve thought there was _something_ here!”

“Not a monster thing that’s immune to bullets!”

“I thought Roman Enterprises was here! I was expecting to meet an accountant maybe.”

The shadow appeared back in the living room. This time it parted to reveal Cas standing behind his brother, Raphael.

For whatever reason, Raphael was carrying his violin case. “-told you I just had this suit cleaned!” he was complaining. 

“I don’t understand the relevance,” was Cas’s clipped reply.

“You're sweaty!”

Cas was indeed perspiring. “I had to carry both Gadreel and the body. Our brother's weight is not negligible.”

Raphael sighed. “I've told him to cut down on the pork rinds.”

“Pork rinds are delicious. And they have a low glycemic index.”

Dean had to smile. These two might not look it, but they were definitely brothers. “You guys gonna quit the vaudeville act and tell us what they hell we're up against?”

Castiel and Raphael now shared one of those conspiratorial glances.

“Hey,” said Sam. “I’m the DA, remember? You talk, or so help me I’ll subpoena your shifty asses!”

Dean grinned. “Hey, you tell ‘em, Sammy.”

“You undercut it when you call me ‘Sammy’ you know. Sammy was a chubby eight year old.”

Raphael was taking out his violin. To Dean’s surprise, the violin case indeed held a violin. “You want talking?” he asked, plucking at the strings. He glanced at Cas, who nodded. Raphael began to play a slow, mournful dirge.

The head moaned, and then, with a sigh, transformed into something that looked a lot like a human head, with ears and eyes and the whole nine yards. 

It looked familiar.

“Edgar Allen!” said Dean. “Sam, that looks like that dickwad mall manager.”

“That actually is the, uh, dickwad mall manager,” Cas informed them. Once again, he crouched down near the head. “Edgar, where is your master? What does he want here?”

Edgar’s head glowered. “He will have his revenge on you. On all of you!”

“I don’t think you’re in the position to be issuing threats, buddy,” Dean told him. 

“Stay away,” said Edgar. “He will do to you what he did to your father!”

Cas shook his head. “This happens sometimes” he told Dean. “They become irritable.”

“After being beheaded with a yoyo and stabbed with a Christmas tree?” asked Dean. “Yeah, I can see it.”

“Shall we tranquilize him for now?” Raphael asked. Cas nodded, and Raphael played a different little dirge on his violin.

“Wait! Is this what he did when those people were throwing rocks at Jo?” whispered Sam.

“This is Raphael’s gift,” Cas told them. Raphael stopped playing. Edgar – or whatever was left of him – looked like he had fallen asleep. 

“Let’s get him back before he starts snoring,” Raphael grumbled. He grabbed Edgar’s head by the hair and stuffed him into his violin case. “I need you to take me back, Castiel. I’m already late for rehearsal!”

“Please wait here,” Cas politely told Sam and Dean, and then the shadow thing happened again, and Cas and Raphael were gone, along with the rest of Edgar.

“Well,” said Dean. “Hope dude doesn’t grab the wrong violin case before he hits rehearsal!”

“This has been a really weird day,” Sam sighed. “We need to talk to Castiel when he gets back, and find out what’s really happening.”

“You sure you wanna know?”

Sam paused a beat. “Yeah, I wanna know.” He looked determined.

“OK, then we’re in this together.”

The shadow once more returned. It split, and Castiel fell out, sinking to his knees.

“Cas! Hey, buddy, you OK?” asked Dean as he crouched down beside him, hand on his back. Cas was panting. 

“What happened?” asked Sam.

“I- It's nothing. Really.”

Dean grasped Cas's shoulder. “You sure. You look wrecked.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “It's just … carrying my brothers. They are heavy. I haven't flown so much recently.”

“That's what you're doing? Flying?” Sam asked as Dean helped Cas to his feet.

“In a manner of speaking,” was Cas's frustrating answer. “I need to get you out of here.”

“Can we bust a door or something?” Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. “No, unfortunately. There is a kind of … power. You might call it magic?”

“That's why we can get in but not out?”

“Yes. Yes! I'm sorry, I don't know how to overcome it. But I can carry you out. If that's all right?”

“Um, like you did with your brothers?” Sam asked.

“And the head?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded. “Just let me … catch my breath. I will take you both at once, I think. It will be a short trip.”

“Your batteries running low or something?” Dean prompted.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Dean and Sam shook their heads at one another. Dean knew what Sam was thinking – they were getting less information out of Castiel than the monster.

“Come in close,” Cas instructed, putting his left hand on Sam's shoulder and his right on Dean's. “This will be quick, I promise you.”

“You're not gonna get us stuck in a wall or something, will you?” asked Dean nervously.

That got a small chuckle. “No, I promise you.”

And then, before even a “one-two-three-go,” Dean found himself surrounded by darkness, and the bottom dropped out. But he was being held up by something very lovely and soft, like a fluffy down pillow.

But before he could get his bearings, he was standing on the lawn beside Sam, while Cas huffed very loud and threatened to fall over once again.

“I gotcha!” Dean said, wrapping one of Cas's arms over his shoulders. 

Sam was looking very pale. Dean tried to step over to him, but was holding Cas. “You OK there, Sam?” As if in answer, Sam doubled over and vomited on the lawn.

“That sometimes happens to Gabriel as well,” Cas muttered. Sam straightened up and wiped the back of an arm over his mouth. 

“OK, that's enough monster hunting for the night. What we're gonna do, we're gonna get in the cars and go home. Sammy, I'm givin' you a ride down to your car. Can you drive?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm OK.” 

“You get in the car and you drive right behind me, you understand? You keep my tail lights in sight the whole way back to town. Got it?”

And with that, Dean marched them both over to his car. He met Cas's weak protests by shoving him into the passenger seat while Sam climbed into his own car. He made sure Sam had started the car before he took off, and then kept glancing in the rear view mirror for a few miles. 

“This is … unnecessary.”

Dean checked the rear view, and then looked over towards where Cas was slumped on the passenger side. “Looks pretty necessary to me. Dude, you're beat.”

“You- You have my gratitude.”

“So, whatever you are, you have limited power or something?”

“I am human!”

“Hey, hey!” Cas had sounded distinctly offended. Dean decided to backpedal. “Sorry, didn't mean anything by that.”

Cas settled himself in the seat. “I am human,” he said, more softly. “I- I mean, my soul- I originated … on another plane. And … I fell.” He huffed in frustration. “This is so difficult to explain! Gabriel does it so much better than I.”

“Maybe shoulda brought Gabe instead of Raph?”

That earned another small chuckle. “Gabriel dislikes flying with me. He reacts the way your brother did.”

“I probably wouldn't understand anyway. I'm just a small town cop.”

“You underestimate yourself, Detective Winchester.”

They looked at one another. “I think I'm Dean. I mean, you took me flying, right?”

“Dean.” Another trace of a smile. “You underestimate yourself.”

Dean pulled the car up in front of Castiel's house. Castiel left without another word, but did look back and give a shy wave. Dean watched him walk all the way up the path to the front door, where he was met by Raphael. He watched even after the door closed behind him.

There were a lot of questions that needed answers. Dean checked the rear view mirror. True to his word, Sam was still in the car right behind him. First thing's first, Dean needed to make sure his little brother got home. He tapped the horn, which slightly startled Sam, and then they both drove on, one after the other, into the night.

 

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean held the cellphone pressed against his ear and, checking around him very carefully, exited police headquarters to take the call. Donna, at the front desk as usual, smiled at him, but then went on chattering with the person who was currently leaning a hip against her desk.

“Was any of that last night … real?” 

Dean gazed up and down the street. There were people going about their business, all unaware that there was had been some kind of creepy immortal monster thing running around loose last night. Speaking of which, he probably needed to ask Raphael what the hell he'd done with the head.

“Did you report it?”

“Oh, yeah, I went right up to Chief Henricksen and told him all about it. What do you think?”

Dean heard a rhythmic thumping on the other end. Sam was bouncing a basketball, and probably annoying the hell out of his staff. “I didn't say anything either. What do we do?”

“What I say is, after our shifts, we head on down to the Edlund frat house of weird, and get some answers.”

“Dean … I hate to say this but, do we even wanna be involved?”

Dean listened to the _thump-thump-thump_. “We're already involved.”

“I mean, we weren't exactly very effective last night.”

“We weren't prepared.”

“And … we will be now?”

Dean noticed a familiar figure approaching. He tried waving him off, but it looked like the coroner wanted to chat. Cursing under his breath, Dean muttered, “Gotta go, talk later,” and cut off the call before his brother could reply.

“Dr. Fitzgerald, hey, what can I do for you?” said Dean, pocketing the phone and trying to act brusk. Fitzgerald wasn't a bad guy, but so help him, when Benny wasn't around to intervene, Dean sometimes wanted to throw him through a window.

“Detective Winchester, I got me a little problem. You know the Fogler case?”

“Yeah.” Of course he knew.

“Well, we got the remains an' all. Turns out, I didn't file a piece of paperwork like I should. You know how Missouri is when you don't turn in the paperwork! Anywho, I been tryin' to get in contact with the family. You know they lived out there, just beyond the Bitterroot.”

“And..?” Dean hoped this was going somewhere.

“Well, that's the situation. I can't get in contact. None of the numbers work, so now here I sent a letter, and that came back to me.”

“They moved? No forwarding address?”

“No forwarding address.” 

Dean was going to tell him, “And that's my business – how?” But he thought the better of it. “I'll look into it, OK? Worst come to worst, I'll just drive out there.”

Dr. Fitzgerald's face shone with the glory of gratitude. “I'd be real obliged! Sure don't want Miss Moseley on my neck!”

“I'll get the contact info,” said Dean, who was taking out his cell phone, pretending to have to send a very important text. With offers of eternal gratitude, the Doc took off the other way. 

Dean pocketed his phone as soon as he was back inside the station. Donna was just saying goodbye to whoever she'd been gossiping with, and Dean got an idea.

“Hey, Donna, you know the Foglers? That missing kid case from a couple months back?”

Donna's sunny face fell. “That poor child!”

“Yeah. Well, I guess Doc Fitzgerald has been trying to contact the family, and he's-”

“Does he have their new address?” asked Donna.

This was news to Dean. Trust Donna to be in on the gossip. “So, they moved?”

“Oh, didn't you hear? Everybody's moving out over there. My second cousin Heidi was telling me it's come a ghost town!”

“Why is everyone moving?” Dean was trying to recall everything he knew of the place. The town was built more or less over where the original settlers had made camp. They had called it Hellgate, which was about the best thing about it. It had never amounted to much, and then, what with territorial lines moving back and forth, the town had picked up a moved a few miles east. What was left wasn't much: a bar and a post office.

Donna leaned closer. “Well, word is it's Roman Enterprises that's buyin'. They're building some kind of facility.”

“In Bitterroot?”

“That's the word.” Donna folded her hands and looked, which meant the matter was settled. Just when Dean was getting interested.

“Thanks, Donna.” As Dean walked off towards the squad room, he took out his phone again. “Sammy? Hey, you doin' anything this weekend? I was thinking about taking a little road trip.”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean sighted down the shotgun's double barrel. He nodded and placed it in the trunk. “Nice.”

“It was Dad's. I told Jess we were going hunting,” said Sam. “I guess that was sort of true?”

“You don't hunt.”

Sam shrugged as they climbed into Dean's car. “I think she's cool with me getting out of the house for a while. She's planning a girl's night out I think.” Dean chuckled. “Besides, I didn't wanna get caught unprepared again. Just in case.”

Dean thought back to the other night at the Murder House. It all seemed slightly unreal now. “My gun didn't do much good.”

“Better than trying to defend myself with freaking laundry soap!”

“Worked better than bullets!”

Sam leaned back in the seat, trying to find a comfortable position for his long legs, and looking very like he wanted a basketball, which meant he was thinking. “Hey, what if we could load up shells with soap and put 'em in a gun?”

Dean had to grin at that. “That's thinkin'. But didn't Cas's brother already yoyo Edgar away?”

“I think there's more where that came from!”

“I thought that was the only one.”

“How do you know?”

“How do _you_ know?” The brothers rode in silence for a moment, at an impasse. “Anyway, that's part of the point of this little trip. We're gonna get Cas out, have a chat about what's happening.”

“He doesn't strike me as the chatty sort.”

“Aw, Cas is OK.”

“ _You_ seem to think so.”

Dean started counting off on his fingers. “Look, he brought back the kid, protected Jo from that mob, and saved our bacon the other night.”

“He might have been trying to take the kid, we're still not sure how he does that shadow trick, and we don't know who's side he's on!”

“You still sore because he made you throw up?”

“So over it. Dean, this isn't like you! You're usually the suspicious one!”

“I guess I just wanna believe that people are good. You know, for once?”

Sam was obviously growing frustrated, which just caused Dean to dig in deeper. “We're not even sure he's _people_!” Sam exclaimed.

“He says he's people.”

“But he does that shadow thing. And his brother kills people with yoyos!”

“Well, there's that.” They had just pulled up outside Castiel's house. “But we're not sure that thing last night was a people.”

Sam made a face. “What did they do with the head?”

“Kept it in a box. Ya know, like Cousin Itt?”

“I think you mean Thing.” The brothers got out of the car, and Dean began to walk towards the house. Sam hesitated, and then followed.

The door flew open before Dean had even made it to the porch. “Deano!” shouted Gabriel. “And the Moose! Heard about your little adventure the other night with my baby bro!”

Castiel appeared, peering over Gabriel's shoulder, looking puzzled as usual. “You said something about an errand, Dean?” he asked as the brothers came inside. The sound of a violin came from somewhere upstairs, and elsewhere, a TV hummed.

“Raph and Gadzooks are tryin' to get something out of your buddy, Edgar,” said Gabriel, pointing upwards. “He's pretty annoying. For a head.”

“Ugh,” said Sam, who looked pretty disgusted.

“You wanna see?” offered Gabriel with a wide grin.

“No!”

“Gabe,” said Dean, “we've been trying to contact the family of the first victim, Justin Fogler. They lived over in the Bitterroot.”

“Yeah, your hell gate,” said Gabriel, and Castiel nodded.

“It was called Hellgate,” said Sam.

“Cause it _is_ a hell gate. Sometimes things are simple.” Upstairs, the violin music abruptly stopped, and there was a crashing sound followed by cursing.

Chuck, clad in his bathrobe, shambled into the entryway and looked up the stairs. “You kids! Do I need to come up there!”

“I should probably go on up,” said Gabriel. “Tricky dealing with Leviathans.”

“Is that what Edgar is?” asked Dean.

There was another, louder crash from upstairs. “Cut it out!” Chuck hollered as he started to mount the stairs.

“I gotta go,” said Gabriel. “Cas, you pack a lunch? And don't talk to strangers, kiddo.” Gabriel cracked a big grin and raced up the stairs along with his father.

“All right, let's get going,” said Cas, as he and Dean made for the door. 

There was another, even louder crash, and more shouting.

“Uhhh, are they gonna be OK?” asked Sam, who was lingering.

“Certainly,” said Cas. “Gadreel just purchased a new yoyo.”

Dean shrugged and smiled, and finally, Sam followed them out.

 

“So there's other dimensions?” asked Dean, even though he knew he'd asked the same question about thirty times already.

“Yes, that's correct!” said Cas, whose enthusiasm, oddly enough, had not waned through the conversation. He was sitting in the back seat, but was leaning forward, elbows hooked over the bench seat, and actually conversing, which Dean hadn't thought possible. “Normally, there are walls between the dimensions, but in certain places, the barrier is weak. That is how, for example, it is possible to see ghosts.”

“Wait a minute,” said Sam. “Ghosts are … _a thing_?” He glanced over at Dean for confirmation, but his brother appeared sanguine with the prospect.

“Of course,” Cas answered. “You are able to view departed spirits in places where the division between our realm and theirs has grown thin.”

“ _Grown_ thin?” asked Dean. “So, it can change? Do the barriers wear out?”

“That is a very good question!” Cas enthused. Dean puffed his chest, and Sam rolled his eyes and switched position – there never seemed to be quite enough room for his legs in the car. Or any car, to be honest. 

“I don't know whether there is a natural progression in the barrier strength,” Cas continued, “but there has definitely been … _intervention_ by various entities over the years. Humans, for example, cast spells and utilize charms to weaken the barriers, or enlarge already existing gaps.”

“So why aren't ghosts running around everywhere?” asked Sam.

“Like Scooby Doo!” added Dean.

“It was never really a ghost on Scooby Doo. It was always the night watchman.”

“Damn you meddling kids! And your stupid dog too!”

“God,” said Sam, gazing out the window, “I fucking hated Scrappy Doo.”

“Dude, everyone hated Scrappy Doo.”

“There are … natural processes,” said Cas, who seemed to have tuned out the Winchesters's entire conversation, “that recover and restore the barrier.”

“Hey, there's the town,” said Dean, pointing to a one-way bridge across a narrow portion of the Clark Fork. “Not looking like the joint is jumping.” Indeed, there seemed to be nobody around, and as the car crossed the bridge and they drew closer, you could see that several shops and houses were boarded up.

“Um, speaking of ghosts...” said Sam. It was true, this could be the setting for an episode of the old cartoon show. The entire town seemed deserted, there wasn't any noise but the rushing of the wind, and this creepy feeling like you were being watched.

“Yeah, spooky as fuck,” Dean agreed. He stopped the car in front of a shuttered bar. They all got out of the car. Dean shivered, his cop's instinct kicking in. He checked his holster.

“Pop the trunk,” said Sam. He was feeling it too – whatever _it_ was.

“Yeah, I think I will,” said Dean. Sam grabbed the shotgun.

“Actually, if you are using normal shells, they won't be effective against spirits,” Cas informed them.

“Well, we forgot the yoyo,” Dean told him. He pointed up the hill. “The Fogler's last known address was up that way, so let's check it out. This way.”

They walked down the deserted main street, Dean in the lead, Cas just behind him, and Sam taking up the rear. The little shops and the cafe were all closed. Across the street, residences dotted the hill, and up at the top, train tracks ran by. Those same tracks, some miles off, were where they had found the Fogler boy months ago. Dean shivered at the memory. He nodded towards the hill and, Sam gripping the rifle, they proceeded across the once busy main street towards the tiered array of residences. Dean and Sam had been out here numerous times before. They were used to the sounds of kids playing, and dogs barking, but there was none of that today. There was nothing but empty driveways and boarded up windows. 

“Did the zombie apocalypse hit and we didn't hear about it?” Dean asked as they all gathered on a corner.

Sam shrugged. Dean took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and squinted at it. “I think they're thataway,” he said, pointing. 

Sam took it from him. “No, the addresses go the other way,” he said, pointing in the other direction.

“Sammy, I know this town.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

“So you'll follow me.”

Cas's head was turning back and forth, as if he was watching a tennis match. “Why don't we split up, then?” he asked. “It will save time. And the town doesn't appear to contain anything threatening.”

Sam and Dean glared at one another. “Sounds like a plan,” said Dean. They stared for another moment.

“Race ya!” said Dean, turning on his heel to run.

“You suck!” retorted Sam, who also ran off, jogging somewhat clumsily, still holding the shotgun.

Castiel stood where he was on the corner, looking between them with some amount of curiosity.

Dean found the address first, but, to his regret, had no one to lord it over. He was not surprised to find that the house appeared deserted. He noticed that the mailbox on the curb was overflowing. He opened the mailbox and flipped through the mail, and came out with an official letter from the Medical Examiner's office. “No forwarding address,” he said to himself.

Something flickered out of the corner of his eye. Dean looked up just in time to see something disappearing behind the garage. “Hello? Sammy? Cas?” There was no reply. 

It could have been a cat or a dog, but it seemed far too large. And they hadn't heard any dogs barking. Maybe a bear? They sometimes came down this far. Dean decided, based on events over the last couple of days, that caution was warranted. He unholstered his gun and once again called out, “Hello? I'm a police officer. Anyone there?”

He moved over to the garage, and, holding his gun ready, peeked around the corner.

There it was! Something had just moved around the back, out of sight. Was it human? It was definitely not a dog.

Dean crept along the side of the garage, towards the back yard. He paused at the corner, and then peeked around, jumping out with his gun pointed. 

But the back yard was deserted. There was nothing but a rusty swing set. One of the chains had broken. He walked over to take a look, wondering what he'd seen.

“My mail!”

Dean jumped and whirled around, pointing his gun, and was confronted with the sight of a 5'2” little old lady. He heard a car pulling up outside.

“That was my mail!”

Dean lowered the gun. “Uh, sorry?” 

“You were stealing my mail! Jody, he's stealing!”

Dean holstered his gun and glanced around to see Sheriff Mills, accompanied by Castiel, coming around the side of the house. 

“Detective Winchester,” said Jody, a smile tracing her features.

“He's the thief! I caught him!”

“Did you get lost again on your way to the post office, Beth?” Jody asked her.

“I'm expecting a letter from Murray!” Beth explained. 

“Yeah, let's walk ya over there,” Jody told her, motioning for Dean to come along. They walked to the end of the block and turned the corner, to where a small postal station was located. The postman was sitting outside, enjoying the sunshine and having a smoke.

“Hey, Beth! You're coming to see me again?” He looked over at Jody and smiled. “Third time today, huh?”

“I'm expecting a letter from Murray!” Beth insisted.

“Well,” said the postman, stabbing out his cigarette, “let's go take a look for that, shall we?” They both disappeared inside the station.

“Murray?” asked Dean.

“Husband,” said Jody. “Late husband. Been dead a good decade now.”

“Jody,” said Dean, “what the hell is going on here?”

Jody placed her hands on her hips and heaved a sigh. “As I was just tellin' your friend, Mr. Novak, nearly everybody in town's sold out.” Cas nodded. “Beth is one of the few people who's still around. Her youngest daughter was looking out for her, but she's just moved to get the kids enrolled in school upriver, and they need to straighten out the title to her house. We try to keep a watch on her, me and the postman. Though I just heard they may close our postal station.”

“Damn.” Dean looked around, taking it all in. “We were just looking for the Foglers. That's why I was digging around in the mail. That old lady isn't related to them, is she?”

“No, all the Foglers all took off. Can't say I blame 'em, after what happened to their little one. If anything like that happened to mine....” She shuddered. “I already had to put Owen in the Little League the next town over. There's just not enough kids around here any more to shake a stick at, much less field a baseball team.”

Sam came jogging around the corner, clutching his shotgun. “Hey, what's going on?”

“I bagged a little old lady,” said Dean ruefully. 

Jody smiled at Sam. “You got a permit for that, young man?”

“Oh, uh, this?” asked Sam, holding up the gun. “We were, uh, headed out hunting.”

“In my downtown?” Jody turned back to Dean. “You mind tellin' me what's really going on, Detective Winchester? I know your partner, and neither of these guys is him!”

Dean and Sam exchanged a guilty look. 

“We've had some weird stuff going on lately,” Dean said finally. “Look, I'll fill ya in, but can we go somewhere else? This town....” He trailed off.

“Gives ya the creeps?” asked Jody. “Yeah, me too.”

“Sorry, Jody.”

“No offense,” Sam added.

“None taken. Creeps me out too.” She looked at her watch. “I have an idea, if you're looking for the Foglers. One person in this town is bound to know something. My shift is over in a few, wanna meet me up the river?”

Dean grinned. He knew the place.

 

“Come here, you,” said Ellen, engulfing Dean in a big hug. “Ah, just look at you,” she said, drawing back. “And don't think you'll get out of this, Samuel!”

Sam laughed – as if someone would refuse Ellen Harvelle a welcoming hug – and wrapped himself around her. 

“And I am-” Cas began formally, extending a hand.

“You're Mr. Castiel Novak, I take it?”

Cas nodded, and then was flustered to find himself the recipient of a warm Harvelle hug.

She wiped her hands on her apron and walked back behind the bar. “It's been too damned long. Now, I don't want any of you to expect to pay for drinks today! Don't even argue with me.” She shot a look at Castiel, who immediately shook his head.

Sam and Dean took seats at the bar, and Dean tugged Castiel over to sit down beside him. Ellen began to draw three beers. 

“The place looks good,” said Dean.

“We only lack for customers,” sighed Ellen. It was true. There was a guy sitting in a booth near the jukebox, but that was about it. 

“There's nobody left downtown,” said Dean. “I had heard people were leaving, but...”

“Seems like it happened overnight too,” said Ellen. “Whoosh!” She waved her hand.

“And it's Dick Roman that's buying people out?” asked Sam.

“Well, that's a question. Not as such, but I've heard several people say they're the ones behind it.”

“I was looking in to their finances the other day,” said Sam. “It's pretty tangled.”

Ellen stood back, hands on hips, and gave the Winchester boys a good once over. “So, what brings you boys out my way?”

“They're snooping!” announced Jody from the front doorway. “That's pretty damned clear.”

“Your usual, Jody?” asked Ellen as the Sheriff sat down next to Sam.

“Damn. I could use one. But I gotta go drive upriver to pick up my kid.”

“We wanted to contact the Foglers,” Dean explained. “Their house is deserted, and no forwarding address.”

Ellen shook her head. “Oh, that poor little boy.”

“You have any idea about where they went, Ellen?” asked Jody. 

“I don't know offhand, but I know someone who might. I'll go give her a call.” Ellen picked up her cell phone and glared at it. “I need to get out back to get a signal. Now don't you boys run off on me!”

“We're still finishin' our beers, Ellen!” Dean yelled after her as the back door opened and closed.

“So what's going on? I mean really going on?” Jody asked, with the air of someone who would not stand for bullshit.

Dean sipped his beer and then leaned back. “As you might've heard, the other day, Cas stepped in and interrupted a couple of kids who we think were in the act of abducting a kid. The plot thickened when Benny and me wandered over to the shopping center where he was taken – but I guess they're part of Roman Enterprises now, and the dude we dealt with was a real asshole about releasing the security cam footage. We got the tapes. From what our techs have been able to figure out, it looks like the kids might have known or been tipped off to avoid the security cams.”

Jody looked skeptical. “You're saying there's some connection between the Fogler case and Roman?”

“I was wondering about that,” said Sam, “so I spent a day going through what the local clerk's office has on Roman. They've been buying some of our local properties as well. So get this: they managed to get the title to this house that has stood empty for decades, and is in the same neighborhood as the DeAngelo disappearance.” Sam glanced at Dean, but decided against relating the tale of the Leviathan dude.

“When we heard Roman was buying up properties over here,” said Dean, “we decided it was worth a trip.”

“You realize this may all be a big coincidence,” said Jody.

“That's why I'm here on my own time,” said Dean.

Jody raised an eyebrow. “And your brother the DA toting a shotgun?” 

“You said it yourself, Jody,” said Sam. “It's gotten spooky in town.”

Jody pointed to Cas. “And that one?”

“Cas's brother, Gabriel, has done some legal work for local businesses trying to stave off Roman,” Dean explained, while Sam more or less kept a straight face.

Jody glared at Cas, but then her expression softened. “Gabe Laufeyson?”

“Yes, Gabriel Laufeyson is my brother,” Cas told her.

Jody laughed, and quite suddenly looked a good decade younger. “Oh, god, Gabe! What a trickster that guy is!” She glanced up at the clock. “Dammit, I gotta go pick up Owen at practice, but we'll have a drink some time. Cas too. Oh, god, Gabe!” She grinned and took her leave just as Ellen was coming back in.

“Jody Mills! Don't be a stranger!” Ellen hollered after her. She tossed her cell phone back on the counter. “She's on her way now. And I've got a situation out back. Castiel, maybe you could help here?” She nodded and walked back out, Castiel following along like a confused puppy in a trench coat. Dean looked at Sam, who held up his hands, and they went on out the back door. Out behind the dumpster, Ellen was pointing to a dark patch of ground that Dean took for a puddle of mud right next to where the Clark Fork pooled into a small inlet behind her place. Cas crouched down beside it. Dean squinted – maybe it was an optical illusion, but the mud appeared to be moving. He drew nearer, and was disgusted to note that it was not mud, but a patch of writhing winged insects.

“Was going to get the exterminator up here,” Ellen was saying. “They haven't come up into my place though. And somehow … that didn't seem right?”

“Cas!” Dean called out as Cas leaned over and put his hand right in the middle of the bugs. He withdrew a single insect. It wasn't something Dean had ever seen before, not that he'd paid much mind to bugs. This was surprising – it was long and thing and delicate, and even had a kind of gracefulness to it, like a ballet dancer who's up on her toes.

“These are from my realm,” said Cas. “Dean, remember how I said rips and tears in the barrier were tended to? They are repairing a breach.” He stood up, the insect now balancing delicately on one finger. 

“So they're good?” asked Ellen.

Cas considered his small companion. “They are a little weak. Sugar water will work to revive them.”

“Sugar water.” Ellen rubbed her chin. “Think they'd like a Coke? It's got a little caffeine kick!”

“Yes, that would suffice.” Ellen darted into her place.

“Cas,” said Dean. “Did you tell Ellen-?”

“She sees me, Dean,” Cas stated. “Some are gifted with this.”

Ellen came out with holding an old fashioned glass bottle of Coke. “Drink up boys,” she said, holding it up in a salute. She carefully poured it out onto the mass of insects. It fizzed, and then a ripple went out through the dark patch. The little bugs turned color, like a prism catching the sun, and then went back to their weaving.

“Be damned,” said Dean.

“You ain't from around here, are you, darlin'?” Ellen asked Cas.

“No,” he admitted. “Not originally.”

“I figured when you wrapped your wings around my girl.”

Cas turned to face her. “Oh! Officer Harvelle is your relative.”

“My daughter. And you have my gratitude.”

“She is a brave individual. She was trying to protect me and my family.”

“She's a good officer, Ellen,” said Dean, who was getting a little weirded out by this conversation. Evidently, Ellen could see between the frames?

The back door banged. “What's going on here?” asked a newcomer, a cute brunette wearing oversized sunglasses, accompanied by a very friendly Labrador. She raised up the sunglasses, and Dean tried to place the familiar face. “Watching your bugs, Ellen?”

“Feedin' the bugs,” laughed Ellen, holding up the empty Coke bottle. “It's the real thing! But these boys were asking about the Foglers, Pam. These are my old friends, Dean and Sam Winchester, and their friend Castiel.”

Pam turned towards Dean. “Detective Winchester?”

“Oh, Miss Barnes!” said Dean, who now remembered his witness from that dark day many months ago. He held out his hand.

“Well, I'm not gonna stand on ceremony,” said Pam. She stepped in and gave Dean a hug. “And this one's your brother?” she asked of Sam. “Somebody's been diving in the deep end of the gene pool”

“Sam,” said Sam, who grinned and gave Dee Dee the Lab some pats.

Pam turned to Cas. “And this must be your incredibly handsome first cousin?”

“I'm sorry?” asked Castiel. “I am not related to Sam and Dean.”

“Oh my god, your incredibly handsome and derpy cousin!” laughed Pam, cupping Cas's face gently in her hand.

“You wanna get back inside?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah, if I'm gonna talk about crappy stuff, I probably need a shot or two,” Pam sighed, following Ellen back into the bar. Sam, who was still chuffed, went after them, and Dean grabbed a rather puzzled Cas by the arm and dragged him along too.

Pam plopped onto a barstool. “OK, Foglers. Set 'em up, Harvelle.” She traced a line down the bar, and Ellen put down several shots, and set a pan of water down for Dee Dee.

“Is that kind of alcohol consumption considered healthy?” inquired Cas.

“You'll help, then, bedhead,” Pam told Cas, pulling him down on the stool beside her. She divided the line of shots into two. “OK, you know how you go to the pound, and look at the puppies and kittens, and it's great, but it's also kind of sad? Like in a soul-destroying way?”

Sam sat down on Pam's other side. “You mean because a lot of the puppies … aren't gonna make it?”

“Score one!” said Pam, downing a shot. “You too,” she told Cas, who followed as well. He choked, and Dean patted his back.

“I was a witness, so I didn't really have any obligation, but I thought, this is a small town I've moved into, I'll drop by the Foglers and just pay my respects. Well, I stepped into something. There's a bunch of adults, and I never quite figured out who was who or who even had a fucking job. And cans of crap beer that comes in cases and water pipes that hadn't been cleaned and hillbilly heroin because half of them are on some kind of disability, and whatever else. And then there were the kids, and who knows who's got a dad and who doesn't. Drink!” She threw one back and, after a pause and a nudge from Dean, Cas did too. And then he hiccuped. Pam reached over and rubbed his arm. “Damn, you are too cute.”

“This fits with what I remember,” said Dean. “There were a couple of them living in a rental house near the university. That's where we first got the report. But nobody could ever say when he disappeared. My first thought was an abuse case, but I could never tell who was there to abuse him.”

“Some people shouldn't have kids. That's usually the people who have too many. Oh, bitter barren bitch!' Pam took another shot and waited for Cas to do the same. “TMI time: I can't have any.”

“Sorry,” said Dean, which sounded lame, even to him.

“You're saying it was like the pound?” said Sam.

Pam looked bitter. “I thought if I could just get one or two away, you know? I couldn't solve their shit. But I could make a difference. There were a couple of the little girls, I started spending time with them. I'm an artist, you know? I'd come into school and give classes, and sometimes I'd have them over. It got to be almost every afternoon.”

And then she was silent. No shots, just a silence.

“Tell 'em, Pam,” Ellen said softly.

“One time- One time, I took Masie aside – that's the mom – I took her aside and sat on her back porch and drank I don't know how many crap beers.” She shifted in her seat, briefly lost her balance, and grabbed Cas's coat sleeve to keep herself from falling. “The boy – Justin? I thought- I thought they didn't notice. But she missed him, god dammit. Every day. Every hour, every second. It was inside her.” Pam gripped Cas. “How could you endure something like that? She loved him, and it broke her heart.”

Sam, perhaps not knowing what else to do, rubbed Pam's arm. Ellen brought out a box of Kleenex from behind the bar. Pam grabbed a couple of tissues and sniffled into them. “I guess my motives weren't as pure as I thought.”

“Who knows why anyone does anything?” said Ellen.

“And then they packed up and moved. I think I may have an address somewhere, that's what you wanted, wasn't it? It's stuffed in a drawer somewhere, I'll try and dig it out before I move.”

“You're leaving us too, Pammy?” asked Ellen.

Pam grabbed another Kleenex. “Yeah. I came here to get away from it all. Massive failure! But I'm watching at all the construction equipment going by, and I guess I'm not gonna be alone for long.”

“Construction equipment?” asked Dean.

“They're putting up something at the end of Vallee Doux Road.”

“Why would they build out there?” wondered Ellen. “That's right on the flood plain.”

“I have no idea. They don't even have telephone lines out there! But still and all, that's too close for me.”

“Sounds like it's worth snooping around, since that's what we're doing,” said Dean with a grin. Sam nodded. “Hey,” he told Pam, “thanks for the information. Sorry we keep meeting under such crap circumstances.”

Pamela dabbed at her eyes. “Sometimes life gives you lemons. And sometimes, in my case, cyanide.” She frowned at Dean. “Have you ever seen me where my makeup's not running? Maybe you should work for Maybelline.”

Dean grinned at her, and then gestured at Sam. Cas rose, more than a little unsteadily. Dean grabbed his arm and steered him towards the front door.

Dean walked them to the door, leaving Pam sitting at their barstool. “Pam?” asked Dean as he half carried Cas into the car.

“I'll get her home,” Ellen told him. “You boys visit me, sooner next time?”

“You got it Ellen!” said Sam, though they were already onto the next thing.

 

They hadn't even made a mile when Cas began snoring.

“Lightweight from another dimension,” chuckled Dean, checking the rear view mirror.

“Dean,” said Sam, his voice soft. “He's not … _human_.”

“Well, what did you expect? Humans don't usually teleport.”

“Yeah, but...”

“Is this the turnoff for Valleydoo?”

“It's Vallee Doux. And, yes.”

“Is it paved? Do you remember?”

Sam sighed and tried to throw his hands up, but was stopped by the interior of the car. “Dean, how would I know? It's not like I vacation out here! Why don't you ask the mysterious stranger in the back?”

“I don't wanna get a flat and get stranded out here.”

The had turned down into very lightly populated a valley now. The only hint of other people was an occasional mailbox and gravel driveway. To Dean's annoyance, the road petered out and turned to a rough gravel. Dean grumbled, and Sam held up his cell phone.

“Let me guess,” said Dean. “No cell signal.”

“No cell signal, and the last telephone pole was a mile back.”

“it's almost as if they don't like people out here.”

“People suck,” said Sam. 

Dean couldn't disagree. “Hey, what's that up ahead?”

They came over a low rise to a sort of clearing. There were many, many pieces of construction equipment and building materials sitting around, just like Pam had talked about. 

“What, are they gonna build the Great Wall of China or something?” Dean asked.

There were now two structures in view behind the equipment, one on either side of the stream, which was thin and meandering this time of year. As Ellen had remarked, both had been erected right out on the river's flood plain. One building was a big, prefab-looking structure with metal sides and a roll-up door. It looked like a hangar – but for what?

“Maybe that's where they're stockpiling … uh, whatever they're stockpiling?” asked Sam.

“Yeah.”

And on the other side of the stream....

“And that's … a house,” said Sam, who couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. And it was a house – a perfectly normal-looking rustic house. 

“What did you think it would be?” Dean asked.

“I dunno, like a creepy factory of evil? Or an evil lab? Or an evil castle? Or something … evil?”

Dean chuckled, and pulled the car over by the side of the road, right before they got to the construction equipment. There they stayed for a moment or two, just watching. “Look like anybody's around?”

“I don't see anybody.”

They looked at one another, and then climbed out of the car. “Should we wake up Sleeping Beauty?” asked Sam, as Cas was still fast asleep.

“Let him sleep it off.”

“I want my shotgun!” said Sam, gesturing towards the trunk.

Dean popped the trunk, which still didn't wake Cas, and the two began poking around the construction equipment. Sam pulled out his cell phone and began to take pictures.

“Thought you weren't getting a signal,” said Dean.

“I'm not. But I recognized these names!” Sam pointed to a logo on a backhoe. “I'm pretty sure this is one of Roman's shell corporations. I think they all are.”

“And they came together to build Barbie's Dream House?” The brothers exchanged a glance. 

“OK, we gonna go inside?” ask Sam.

“Where we goin' first, Branch Davidian over there or Little House on the Prairie?” They decided to venture into the hanger first. To his surprise, Dean found that the door wasn't even padlocked. He pulled it up. It was dark inside, but there really wasn't much to see. In point of fact, there wasn't anything to see. It was completely empty.

“Well, this ain't exactly Indy Jones's warehouse, is it?” asked Dean. “Unless the stuff is gonna be trucked in later?”

Sam was squatting down, pointing his cell phone at the floor. “What now, Nancy Drew?” Dean asked him.

Sam pointed to some sigils that had been painted on the floor. “This is like the stuff that was painted on the bedroom floor in the Murder House.”

“Oh, you mean where Edgar popped through?”

“Yeah. But it's much bigger.” Indeed, the circle went all the way around the floor. 

“Um, they gonna bring something real big on through this time?” asked Dean. Sam and Dean looked at one another. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

They exited, pulling the door closed behind them, and headed towards the house.

“You first, Shotgun,” said Dean. Holding his gun, Sam walked across the bare dirt of the front yard towards the front door, his brother a step behind him, both of them intent on their surroundings. Sam peeked in the front window, but it was obscured by a plastic covering. Dean tried the knob. It too was not locked. “OK, here we go,” he said. On the count of one-two-three, he pushed open the door and leapt inside, his gun pointed, Sam right by his side, almost as if they'd been clearing houses together for years. Dean had to smile.

The ground floor was about as unthreatening as could be. It was a large airy space, and the windows, through covered with a translucent plastic, let in ample light. The carpets hadn't been laid down, and it wasn't furnished, and there were still tarps and tools laid out here and there, but it looked pretty swank. There was a large area for what you'd assume was the living room, and at one end all the trappings of a gourmet kitchen, including marble countertops. 

Dean whistled low. “Welcome to Stepford.”

“This is nicer than a Stepford house, Dean. The craftsmanship – Jess's dad does some woodworking, and this is, frankly, amazeballs.” He brushed a hand across the island in the kitchen. 

“But who builds something so whoopy-doodle way out here?” asked Dean.

“Roman, obviously. Maybe this is where he's gonna raise his baby maggots?”

Dean pointed up the staircase. “So, ladies first?”

Sam shot him a look, but, holding his shotgun at the ready, slowly ascended the staircase, Dean hot on his heels. Dean wondered if they should have woken up Cas first, but maybe it was just as well not to have a drunk try to negotiate the stairway, even if he did do that neato cool shadow transport thingie. 

Sam was indicating that he was going to go right first. Dean had to smile again – his baby bro actually had a good instinct for this stuff. Maybe after this case was over and done they could really go hunting together? And maybe just end up hanging out drinking beer. 

Sam was using the right hand rule, going one door at a time. He found a linen closet, and then a bare room that was probably a bedroom. The next room already had some bright wallpaper. Sam pointed at the wallpaper, a puzzled expression on his face: cowboys. 

“A kid's room?” asked Dean.

“Guess so.”

“Maybe you weren't wrong about the little maggots?”

“Maybe this is all perfectly innocent?” Sam asked. They looked at one another and then, simultaneously, shook their heads and chorused, “No!” 

Dean now took the lead, continuing Sam's course of going right. They next found the bathroom, a smaller room that may have been a study or another bedroom, and then, finally, a large room that must have been the master bedroom, which had an attached bathroom.

And all of it was empty. And, seemingly, annoyingly, perfectly normal.

“Something's wrong, Sammy! This is way way too Ozzy Nelson for Roman! Where's the creepy creatures?”

“Do you wonder if think we just imagined what happened the other night?” said Sam softly.

“Oh, come on. You were there!”

“I know, but-” Sam trailed off. He pushed open the door to the walk in closet. “Oh, hey, Dean, look at this!”

“What did you find, Sammy? Let me guess, Carrie Bradshaw's shoe collection!”

Sam shot a glance at Dean. “You really watched that one?”

“Hey, I can get my chick flick on!” protested Dean. He tried looking over his brother's shoulder, found this was impossible, and then nudged him out of the way so he could see whatever the hell Sammy was looking at.

“You see those markings on the floor?” asked Sam. 

Dean holstered his guy. “Squiggle-squiggle squiggle-squiggle. Yeah? Like in the hanger.”

Sam set down his gun and took out his cell phone again to snap a photo. “There were these kind of markings on the floor of the Murder House! That's where old Mouthy appeared.”

“Huh.”

“I wonder if we should wake up Cas?” said Sam, who held up the phone to get a look at his photos.

“Could just show him the pictures when he wakes up. Heh. We better stop and get aspirin.” Dean pushed into the closet and stood in the middle of the squiggles to get a better look. “Hey-”

Sam saw the flash of blue and turned around just in time to see his brother. “Dean!”

Dean tried to scream.

But he was falling.

Far and fast.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean awoke, blinking and disoriented.

He sat up and glanced around. He was apparently lying inside the same damned closet.

“Sammy?”

Strange, he could see his breath. It had gotten really cold. How long had he been out?

He tapped his holster. Good, gun was still there.

With some effort, he got to his feet, still feeling weird. It was not only freezing cold, but now that he was looking around, everything seemed a little off, like when you went to a movie and they got fancy with the filters. “Sam!” Dean wondered if his brother had gone down to roust Cas? Rubbing his head, he walked back out of the bedroom, wondering what the hell had happened. He felt muzzy-headed, like he had a concussion. Had he hit his head when he fell? He felt for bumps, but there didn't seem to be any. 

Dean made his way through the the hallway near the bathroom, so he headed in to take a look at himself in the mirror. The bathroom now looked like the back of a bar he wouldn't go into. He squinted in the funny light. He couldn't see any injuries. Had there been something in the beer he drank?

He heard a noise somewhere. “Sam?” He watched the mist from his breath hang in the odd blue light. He went to the door and stuck his head out. No Sam. 

But there was noise. Not coming from downstairs, but one of the rooms.

He pulled his gun out and crept down the hallway. “Sam? Cas?” he called. 

It was the room with the wallpaper - the kid's room. The door was ajar. Counting his breaths, he stood at the doorway, and on the count of three, pushed into the room.

It was different now – really different. The cowboy wallpaper was still there. But now it was furnished – there was a little bed and a dresser and a toy box and toys.

And also a little boy, sitting on the rug, playing soldiers.

He looked up at Dean. 

A face Dean could never wipe from his memory.

_Justin Fogler._

“Wanna play?”

Dean sank to his knees. _I've got a concussion._

“Play cowboy?” asked Justin.

Dean noticed he was still holding his gun. Quickly, he holstered it. “Uh, hello.”

“Hello.” Justin went back to playing with his army men.

“You're Justin, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“OK. I'm Dean.”

“Hi! I got LEGO.”

“OK, I like LEGOs.” 

Justin scrambled up and ran to his toy box. He grabbed a tub of LEGO and spilled them on the floor between them. “We can build somethin'. What do you wanna make?”

“How about a police car?” asked Dean.

“We need wheels!” Justin told him seriously.

“Yeah. Justin?”

“Um-hum?” The boy was already clicking blocks together. 

“How did you get here, buddy?”

“The man. The man with the teeths.” He pointed at his own teeth to be clear.

Dean felt a shiver. It wasn't from the cold. “I think I know those men.”

“Uh-huh. You're not building!” Justin scolded.

Dean stuck a couple of bricks together, looking for something vaguely police car-colored. “Does your mommy know you're here?”

“No.”

“Don't you miss her?”

Justin shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna help you, buddy.”

“You need to build!” Justin fretted.

“But Justin-”

“Dean!”

Dean was up on his feet in a tick. Castiel was now standing, barring the doorway.

But he wasn't quite Castiel. Maybe it was the weird filter effect? No, that wasn't it.

Castiel was winged. Two large, dark wings, feathered with the night.

Also, he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing.

Dean's eyes drifted lazily downwards, down Cas's chest to the pale, flat belly split by a line of dark hair. “Uh, something happen with your pants, Cas?”

“Dean,” hissed Cas. “You shouldn't be here! Come with me.” He extended a hand, pale as moonlight. His eyes were glowing an eerie blue.

Go? No! He didn't understand! “Cas, it's Justin!” Dean pointed to the child, who didn't seem aware of Cas.

“We can't bring him over, Dean.”

“Over?”

“Dean, please take my hand! Before it's too late!” Cas was reaching out. He didn't seem able to cross over the threshold into the room though.

“Cas, I need to-”

“Sam sent me, Dean! _Sam!”_

Sam? Yes, Sam. Dean looked back and forth between Cas and Justin, not knowing what to do. He made a decision, and squatted down. “Justin, I need to go right now. I'll be back, pal. OK? I'll figure out a way.”

“Uh-huh. And make a car with me?”

“Yes. Gotta go.” 

“Bye.” Justin concentrated on his little bricks.

Dean stepped backwards, reaching a hand out towards Cas.

Everything went dark again. Dean found he was pressed up next to Cas. His skin was soft, his grip was strong, and his wings were safe, wrapped around them like a lovely dream.

“Cas.”

Dean was weightless and dreamy. He nuzzled into Cas's bare neck, so glad to feel entwined.

“Dean?”

Dean popped his eyes open to the familiar sound of his brother's voice. Sam and Cas were bent over him, their expressions pained. “Hey, Sammy!” 

“Are you able to sit up, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Sure!” With somebody's hands guiding him, he sat up. He'd evidently been resting his head on Cas's lap. And they were in the hallway. Dean looked around. He was in the hallway outside the wallpapered room. And things looked real again – it didn't look filtered any more. But... There was something missing. Someone missing.

“I gotta get back there Sam. Justin was there!”

Sam frowned at him. “Wait, Justin Fogler? And, where were you? Where was he, Castiel?”

Cas had his hands on Dean, helping him to his feet. “He was here, Sam. Only … not. He had crossed over. I think it had to do with that portal in the bedroom.”

“Dean was still here? But I didn't see him after he blinked out!”

Dean was now leaning on Cas, feeling pretty darned content.

“We need to leave here now, Sam. It's not safe.”

“All right. But you need to explain what's going on here.”

“Come on, Dean.” Cas began leading Dean towards the stairs. 

Dean turned around and waved. “Bye, Justin! I'll be back.” Sam wore a very strange expression.

There was a bit of a tussle at the car, as Sam didn't think Dean was fit to drive for some damned reason. Cas finally convinced him that both of them would sit in back, and this seemed pretty nice. They took off, and Dean watched the world go by, and then pretty soon he was leaning his head on Cas's shoulder. Cas smelled really nice, and Dean told him so. And then the world melted away, like sugar in the rain.

 

“Is he asleep?”

Sam glanced nervously in the rear view mirror. Cas had managed to bring Dean back from … whatever. But he seemed really out of it.

“I believe so, Sam.” Cas repositioned Dean, letting his head droop into Cas's lap. Dean snorted, rearranged himself, and began to snore contentedly.

“Cas, can you please, please explain to me what happened in fifty words or less?”

Cas was gazing down at Dean. “I apologize, Sam. Gabriel is so much better at this than I.” He smiled at Dean, and then gazed into the rear view mirror, his eyes clear and guileless. “There are other dimensions – other realities – besides ours. In some places, the barrier, as I have told you, has grown weak. The barrier around that structure is especially thin. The entire valley, actually, feels like it is being encroached upon.”

“So Dean … somehow Dean got into another dimension?”

“I believe so, Sam.”

“And the big hangar - Roman built a portal?”

Cas paused, searching for words. “I don't believe he built a doorway, if that's what you're asking. There was already one there. The problem with inter-dimensional travel is control – where you end up, as it were. I think the sigils are a method of pointing oneself in the correct direction. We'll show images of the site to Gabriel and Raphael, they will probably be able to interpret them.”

Sam drove for a bit, listening to his brother snore. “Dean seems like he's disoriented. I mean, he was babbling about meeting a dead kid! Is he gonna be all right, Cas?”

“I believe, as they say, he will sleep it off, Sam. And as for Justin Fogler, I believe they really did meet. In a sense.”

“Uh, in a sense?”

“Yes.”

Sam let this one roll through his mind for a while, and then he pushed a cassette into the player and just kept driving. There was only so much weird he could take.

 

“Pass the popcorn?”

Dean rousted from his nap. He blinked. He was sitting in someone's living room, on their couch, with a blanket pulled over him. 

His favorite show, Corazon de Azul, was playing on the TV.

“Can you pass the popcorn?” came the voice. There was a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. Dean swung his feet down off the table and reached over for the bowl. He passed it towards the voice.

“Can you grab me some popcorn.”

Dean turned his head to look.

Dean froze.

Beside him, sitting on a table right in back of the couch, was the head of Edgar the Leviathan. Just the head. It was looking at him now, it's face twisted in a slight irritation. “I can't reach it myself.”

“Got it!” Chuck, who was sitting over on the other side, grabbed the bowl and stuck some popcorn in Edgar's mouth. 

“T'anks!” Edgar's head chewed.

Dean's mouth hung open. “Uhhhh-”

Gabriel strolled into the room. “Hey, Dean-o! You decided to come back to this dimension?”

Dean didn't feel as if the power of speech had quite returned to him yet, so he nodded. Gabriel grabbed his arm and began dragging him out. “Well, cool. Your brother had to leave, but we said we'd watch over you for a bit. We're good at that. I'll send him a text.” Gabe dug his cell phone out as he marched Dean down the hall to the kitchen. Raphael and Cas were both sitting at the kitchen table.

“Dean! I'm so glad to see you,” said Cas, who looked altogether like he meant it.

“There's a head,” said Dean.

Raphael looked up from where he was stringing his violin. “Edgar.”

“It asked for popcorn,” said Dean.

Gabe had hopped up on the kitchen counter and was typing on his cell. “Yeah. We had a time getting information out of him, but turns out, we just needed to let him watch _Corazon de Azul_.”

“He likes _Corazon de Azul_?” asked Dean.

“Doesn't everybody like _Corazon de Azul_?”

Dean mulled this over, and then shrugged. “Would you like some coffee, Dean?” Cas inquired.

“Cas, I would love some coffee right now. And maybe,” he gestured tippling a flask into it.

“Can do,” said Gabriel, opening up a cupboard while Castiel prepared the French press.

“Uh, so mind catching me up?” asked Dean, taking a seat. 

Raphael sighed and pointed to several sheafs of paper scattered over the table. “We attempted to draw diagrams for your brother.”

“I think Dean-o wants Cliff Notes.” Gabriel grabbed a couple of bottles of whiskey. “Salted caramel or plain?” he asked Dean.

“Plain, please.”

“Great, more for me,” said Gabe, sticking the salted caramel flavored liqueur back. “To summarize, looks like Dick the Dickless is trying to widen and control the big gap over in Valleydoo. He wants to squeeze the Old One's loathsome, tentacle-y form into this world. That's why that big hangar with the squiggles on the floor.”

“The Old One?” asked Dean. “Wait, you mean Cthulhu?”

Raphael and Gabriel shared a surprised glance. “Got it in one!”

“Lovecraft's Cthulhu? Is real?”

“Oh, god, Howie!,” laughed Gabriel, hopping off the counter. “What a card.”

“Gabriel,” scolded Raphael, a look of disgust crossing his face. “He was racist.”

“But he was fun at parties!”

“But he was racist!”

Gabriel shook his head and drizzled some whiskey into the cup of coffee Cas had just presented to Dean. “Yeah, he was a racist creep. But he knew how to party.”

“I suppose so.” Raphael had finished restringing his violin and now held it to his chin, plucking the strings.

Dean took a good, long gulp of his coffee. “Uh, you guys actually knew H.P. Lovecraft?”

“Yeah,” said Gabriel. “You wanna see?” Without waiting for an answer, he rushed out of the room, and Dean heard the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.

“Uh, you have H.P. upstairs?” Dean asked Cas. It wasn't so outrageous a question – they had a head in the living room after all. 

“I don't think so, Dean,” said Cas. He was sitting right next to Dean, quite close, and gazing at him with a really dorky expression. 

“He was an idiot,” said Raphael. “He found some sigils he said opened a door into another dimension. But it's not a thing to go screwing around with. Our father tried to confront the Old One head on, and you can see what's become of him.”

Cas broke his mooning at Dean to scold his brother. “Our father is all right, Raphael.”

“Our father mad as a hatter, Castiel. You didn't know him, before.”

“Raphael-”

“Here we go,” said Gabriel, who returned carrying a thick photo album, which he dumped onto the middle of the kitchen table, scattering some of the diagrams that were lying there. Dean watched with interest as he flipped through binder pages. Gabriel flipped past what Dean would swear were daguerrotypes of Gabriel, Raphael, Gadreel and Chuck, all wearing Civil War type uniforms. 

He turned the page to some black and white photos and turned the album so Dean could have a look. There were Gabriel and Raphael and Chuck – looking considerably more with it. There was also a face Dean recognized instantly from the book jackets of some paperbacks he'd devoured as a teen. “You and H.P. Lovercraft,” he muttered, pulling the album closer. It really didn't seem to be some kind of Photoshop trick. He traced his finger along the images. He came to another face he recognized, though he couldn't place it at first.

“Professor Visyak,” he said to himself. “Damn, this looks like someone I know.”

“You know Eleanor Visyak?” asked Gabriel. “Small world.”

“Bobby's new girlfriend. Judge Singer, I mean.” Dean flipped the page and stared at her image. “So she's … one of you?”

“Ah, no no no!” said Gabriel. “She's much worse.”

“You could argue that point,” sniffed Raphael.

“Howie opened up a doorway,” said Gabriel. “He thought it was a cool party trick. It was cool, but then Eleanor came slithering through.”

This didn't sound good. “OK, then what the hell is she?”

“Richard Roman's ex, for one thing.”

“Ew!” said Dean.

“Yeah!” chorused Gabriel and Raphael, who then appeared flustered at actually agreeing over this.

“You say she's going with Judge Singer?” asked Gabriel.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, wondering how the hell he was gonna tell Bobby that his new squeeze was an ancient monster from another dimension. “Yeah. Yeah, she's gonna be at Benny's barbecue party tomorrow.” Dean mulled this over for a moment. “Can- Do you think she'd know what's goin' on with Justin Fogler? I just wanna know. I just wanna help him.”

“Can you pump her?” asked Gabe. “I mean for information!” he added when Raphael gave him a look.

“Why can't I just ask her outright?” asked Dean.

“Because she's one treacherous bitch!” said Raphael.

“Seriously, do not wanna tangle with that one. She gave Howie cancer!” 

“And she has in her possession the sword of Bruncvik,” said Cas. His brothers went silent and stared at him. “I have been watching her since I became aware that she is in the vicinity. I saw the relic transported into her offices at the university.”

“Why didn't you tell us, Castiel?” demanded Gabriel.

Cas folded his hands in his lap. “You didn't ask.”

“OK, I'll tell ya what we do,” said Gabriel. “You go ahead to your party, and you take along Cas as your plus one. But be wary of Visyak. Don't let her stab you!”

“Nor let her give you adenocarcinoma of the small bowel,” added Raphael.

“Yeah, that too.”

“Wait, Cas as my plus one?” Dean asked.

“It's gotta be Cas. She knows me 'n Raph.”

“No, I mean....” Dean trailed off and glanced at Cas, who was giving him those damned heart eyes again.

Gabriel crossed his arms and scowled at Dean. “You don't want my little bro as your plus one? Not after you came in here sucking on his neck and babbling about how pretty his wings are?”

“Um,” said Dean. “Did I?” Castiel was now blushing something fierce, so he supposed maybe he had? And Cas's wings were awfully pretty. 

Dean shook his head. OK, he'd had a very long, very weird day, and there were dead kids and talking heads and wings and LEGO, and he suddenly needed to get the fuck out of here and put his feet up and stare at the TV for a while. 

Dean got to his feet. “I need to clear out of here- Oh shit!” He suddenly realized that if Sam had left, he had probably taken off with Dean's car. “Did Sam take the car?”

“I can take you, Dean,” Cas offered, with a fetching hint of shyness in his voice.

“Awww!” said Gabriel, which totally ruined everything.

“Uh, that's OK, Cas.”

“It's no problem.” And before Dean could protest some more, Cas was standing right in front of him, his arms around Dean's shoulders.

“Remember, pump pump pump!” shouted Gabe.

“And no cancer,” added Raphael.

“Yeah, no cancer.”

Cas swiftly swept Dean off his feet, into that soft place between worlds. Cas wasn't naked this time (Dean noticed) but they were snuggled close together, and that safe, warm feeling washed over him. He didn't realize for a moment that they were standing inside his house.

“Uh, Dean-”

“Cas?” Dean noticed that they were standing in his entryway, still wrapped around one another, with Cas's back almost pressed against the door. Dean began to get ideas about how to spend his evening that had little or nothing to do with spacing out in front of the television. He leaned in a fraction and brushed his lips softly against Cas's. 

Cas gasped, and Dean pulled back a fraction. Cas's eyes had gone wide, terrified. 

“You OK?” Dean whispered. He put a hand up to Cas's face, running a thumb along his cheek.

“I- I don't know … what to do,” Cas admitted.

Oh, that was the problem! “'s OK, we'll go slow.” Dean smiled. And then they would go fast. Yes, this would definitely be a better way to spend the evening than dumb TV. “You tell me what's good, all right?” He began an exploration of Cas's neck, peppering him with feather-light kisses, and then slipping his fingers into a couple of shirt buttons. Why did the guy have to dress in so many layers? Well, they would take care of that.

“You should never wear clothes, Cas,” Dean murmured.

“I- How would I go to the grocery store?” 

Dean chuckled and hushed him with a lingering kiss. “You should never cover up. I'll just keep you here naked.”

“Wouldn't that be impractical?”

Dean let out a full-throated laugh. He stepped back, and extended a hand. A deer-in-headlights look flashed across Cas's face, but then his mouth set. He took a breath, pushed off the door, and grabbed Dean's hand. Dean pulled Cas through the house and into the bedroom, where he began unwrapping: there was an overcoat, a suit jacket, a tie, a dress shirt, and then a freaking undershirt! He wondered if the dude had his underpants painted on, like a Ken doll. 

It was an exercise in frustration, so Dean decided to give a little back. He crawled on top of now-at last-finally half-naked Cas and straddled him, not touching him, and pushed Cas's arms up over his head. He started kissing Cas. Cas kissed back, but started to wriggle underneath Dean, thrusting his hips upwards. “What do you want?” Dean teased.

“Dean.”

“Don't wear so many layers next time!”

“Dean, I want-” Cas pushed his hips up, but Dean just held him down tighter.

“Not yet, not yet.” Cas's pupils had gone wide, and his lips were getting swollen from the kissing. His dark hair was sticking every which way, and he looked glorious. Dean set to kissing his way down Cas's chest, biting a nipple along the way, nuzzling his tummy. He undid Cas's fly, and suddenly Cas was kicking off his pants. He was about to stop Cas from kicking off the boxers as well (nope, they weren't painted on) but decided that was enough teasing, it was time to get down to business. He lightly touched Cas's hard cock with one hand. Cas sucked in breath and arched his whole body in response. He probably wouldn't last long. But that was all right. 

Dean finally peeled off his own clothes, with some clumsy assistance from Cas, and then he slid on top of Cas, slotting them together, sliding as slowly as he possibly could, drinking in the pleasure. Cas was grasping his back now, digging fingernails in. He wrapped his legs around Dean, keening and begging for more friction. “You're so beautiful,” Dean whispered, keeping his pace achingly slow. “So fuckable.”

Cas moaned and writhed around, and then at long last his grip tightened, and Dean felt him come all undone underneath him, stiffening and moaning and finally, going boneless. It was all Dean needed, seeing those plush lips go into a circle, and then he was over the top as well. 

They lay tangled together for a while, panting and sticky, Cas looking like he'd been run over by a truck. Dean finally snatched up a box of Kleenex and dabbed up most of the mess. He tossed the wadded up Kleenex into the waste basket, and then maneuvered Cas around so he could be the small spoon, gathering up the blankets around them.

“You wanna be my plus one, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Yes, Dean. I will be your plus one.”

Dean threw an arm around Cas and twisted his leg around him too, and the both drifted off to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

When Dean awoke, he was alone.

He sat up, and noticed that all of Cas's clothes (all of them – all hundred and forty six layers!) were gone. 

He sighed and scratched his head. He liked morning after stuff – waking up all tangled up with each other, taking showers, putting together breakfast. Dean was the undisputed king of the morning after omelette. 

Well, maybe next time. 

His phone was blinking, so he listened to a message from Sam. _“Dean, are you coming to this barbecue thing at the Lafitte's? Jess was asking.”_ Dean grinned – Jess was not a fan of Benny's bloody BBQ. Sam lowered his voice. _“You feeling OK? I got Gabe's texts. We left the car over at your place, in your driveway, but it didn't look like you were up yet. Call me when you get this, OK?” ___

Dean shook his head and laughed. Sam was probably worried that Dean was still acting baked as fuck. It was getting late, so he decided to duck into the shower first. Then time to pick up beer, and pick up his “plus one.” He smiled as the refreshing hot water hit him. Gabe's plan had seemed like madness yesterday, but it really wasn't so bad. Practically the whole town was always giving him shit about settling down. Well, all right, let's see what they thought about him bringing along Cas Novak!

He called Sammy while he was making breakfast, but it went to voicemail. “Sammy, Cas and me got some brand new information last night. It's important! I'll catch you at the barbecue, OK?” Sam was a lawyer, maybe he could wheedle some information out of Eleanor Visyak. Dean's phone beeped, and he picked it up, but it was a weird text message from Cas. He texted him back that he would be there soon – Cas was probably being teased mercilessly by his brothers, Dean thought. 

He hopped in the car, and stopped by the grocery store and picked up a case of a good amber (in bottles, not cans, because this was America dammit), and then headed out to the Edlund place, feeling a little like he was going to pick up his prom date. He thought of joking with Cas about forgetting the corsage, and then figured Cas would never get the reference.

The front door opened, and a lonely figure appeared in the doorway.

Dean stood and stared. It was Cas, but he was dressed almost like a normal person. He was wearing jeans (probably someone else's, as they were a little baggy) and a simple Henley. As Dean began to walk up the path, Cas turned and began to argue with someone else. 

“Waddya think, Dean? Huh, huh?” demanded Gabe, who was obviously behind this.

“I feel strange,” grumbled Castiel.

“Now you two stand right there a minute, I gotta get a picture.” Gabriel darted out of the room.

“Gabriel!”

“Are you ready for prom?” came Raphael's dry voice.

“Raphael!” 

And then Gadreel was in the room as well, glaring at Dean and playing with threateningly with his yoyo (or as threateningly as one may be said to play with a yoyo).

“All right,” said Gabriel, who returned with an old-fashioned Polaroid camera. “You two stand right there. Did you bring him a corsage, Dean?”

“Dammit, I forgot!” laughed Dean. Usually, Gabriel was obnoxious, but this was actually kind of cool, even though Cas was glaring daggers at all of them.

Chuck shuffled into the room, wearing a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers. He had Edgar’s head tucked under his arm. “Is someone going out?” he asked.

“Dean is taking Cas to a party,” Raphael supplied.

“Oh, how nice,” said Chuck, coming over to pinch Dean's cheek. Edgar’s head snorted and Dean took a step back. “Now, don't you break his heart!” Chuck warned.

“Or we'll cut out yours!” said Gabe cheerily, holding up the Polaroid photo, which had somehow managed to cut off Dean's head. 

“Uh,” said Dean.

Gadreel whipped his yoyo.

“Let’s go, Cas,” said Dean. Castiel was all too happy to cooperate.

 

The party was in full swing by the time they made it out there, so Dean and Cas had to park a good half a mile away from the Lafitte household, which was situated along a country roadside edging a stretch of the Clark Fork that widened into a still, clear lake. They hadn’t talked much on the drive over: Cas seemed to be still sulking over his brothers, and now he tugged on the neck of his Henley. “Cas, you look good. You look really good,” Dean told him, grabbing the case of beer from the trunk.

“I didn’t want them to know what happened,” Cas confessed. “That’s why I left. But Gabriel and Raphael were up waiting for me!”

“Hey, may, brothers bust each others chops. That’s what they do. Don’t worry, OK? You’re here as Dean Winchester’s plus one. You rock!”

Cas glanced down and blushed, and it was so damned cute, Dean wanted to turn around right there so they could go back to his place. But they had finally reached the Lafitte’s driveway, and Jo Harvelle hollered, “Dean!” and came running up to them. She was wearing a Maui T-shirt and sipping some kind of cocktail in an oversized, neon orange plastic martini glass with a pink flamingo stirrer. “Finally.” 

“Are you out of uniform, officer?” chuckled Dean.

“Totally.” She cast somewhat drunken eyes at Castiel. “Oh, Mr. Novak! I didn’t get a chance to thank you the other day.”

“There is no need,” Cas assured her. “And it’s Castiel.”

“Say hi to your brothers for me!” 

Cas’s face darkened at the mention of his brothers, so Dean added, “Cas is my plus one today!”

Jo’s eyes went wide. “OK. Uh, gotta go get a refill!” She abruptly bounded off, around the side of the house, towards the lake.

“Her drink looked full to me,” Cas muttered.

“C’mon, Cas, let’s get inside and get these beers in the fridge!” Dean told him. The Lafittes lived in a two story house right on the lakeside. You entered up on the second level from the road, into a big, spacious living room off a large deck, where Benny was serving as grill master. The deck overlooked the lake. Down towards the lakeshore, they had a firepit. When it got late, they'd have a bonfire and sit around toasting s'mores and drinking what was left of the beer. 

Dean spotted Benny out by the grill, holding a beer and gesturing with a spatula. In other words, he was in his element. He was going to set the carton of beer on the counter and go out to say hi to his partner, but he was intercepted by Benny's wife, Andrea.

“Dean, could you be a dear and set those down in the ice box for me, sweetie?” she asked after she embraced Dean. Andrea had a slight accent that Dean could never quite place. “And who is _this?_ ” she asked, giving Cas a good sizing up. The woman who was standing next to her (she had similar facial features, but bleached blond hair – Dean took her for one of Andrea's relatives) nodded appreciatively and made a low whistle. 

“This is my friend, Castiel Novak,” said Dean. Andrea was very quick to give Cas a European style air kiss, much to Cas's puzzlement. “Andrea is Benny's wife,” said Dean.

“Such an unusual name,” said Andrea, batting her long lashes. “You are most welcome here, Castiel.”

The other woman said something in a foreign language that Dean didn't catch. Andrea giggled.

And then Castiel replied to the woman, in the same language. She smiled broadly, and they chatted back and forth. She gave Cas some air kisses and walked off, laughing and holding Andrea's arm.

Dean reluctantly hoisted the carton of beer again and headed for the stairs. “What was that about, Cas?” 

“She wondered if I was 'available.' I didn't quite understand the reference, but told her I was here as your 'plus one.'” 

“Well, good you cleared that up.” Dean toted the beer down the narrow staircase into the basement, only to find himself intercepted at the bottom by Donna Hanscum.

“Dean,” she said, not even pretending to pay any attention to him, but rather focusing her insane powers of observation utterly and completely on Castiel. 

“Donna, you know Cas?” Dean sighed, shifting the beer to the other arm.

“So nice to see ya again, Castiel.”

“I am here as Dean's 'plus one,'” Cas explained.

“Oh, yeah, that's what I've been hearin'.”

“Donna, we got here five seconds ago. I haven't even had the chance to put my beer away.” He hoisted the case, hoping for a spot of pity.

“There's beer in the icebox,” Donna distracted told Dean, lifting her own bottle to her lips and keeping her eyes on Cas. “So, how long you been seein' our Dean?”

“As long as he is visible?” said Cas.

Donna was beside herself. “Oh, isn't he a funny one! And not bad lookin', you know what I mean?”

Dean spotted his brother outside by the lake. “I know what you mean, Donna. Now I really gotta put this down before I lose an arm.”

“I could carry that for you, Dean,” Cas offered.

“Oh, I bet you could, look at the arms on him, will ya?” Donna stepped forward to feel Cas's biceps.

“Donna, no molesting the plus one!” said Dean, trying to maneuver himself and the beers between Cas and Donna.

“Aw, you're no fun!” laughed Donna as, grunting, Dean hefted the beers with one arm, and grabbed Cas with the other, wresting him out of Donna's grip and towards the icebox.

“Officer Hanscum seems very friendly, Dean,” said Cas.

Dean deposited the beers on the ground in front of the fridge and worked his arms around, groaning. “Yeah, I'm sure she does.”

“Do you need a deep tissue massage, Dean?” Cas inquired, putting a hand on Dean's shoulder and pushing in really hard with his thumb.

“No not-” Dean paused. “Damn, that feels really good. “So you speak Spanish-”

“It was Italian.”

“And you're a masseur?” 

“I have some knowledge of anatomy,” said Cas, digging in to Dean's shoulder. It felt incredibly good, but Dean saw Jo wink at them, so he reluctantly pulled Cas's hand off of him.

“Later. Definitely later.” Dean pulled the fridge open and began loading it with beer. “We gotta go get Sam and tell him about Eleanor Visyak.” He scanned around. “And then figure out our next move. I haven't seen Bobby around yet.”

“Will you tell Judge Singer as well?” Cas whispered.

“No, because he'll have me committed.” Dean grabbed the last two bottles from the case and stuck them under his arm, and then folded up the cardboard and stuck it in the trash. He expertly flipped the caps off the beers, handing one to Cas. “Now, you drink that slowly! I don't want you crashing in my back seat again. Well, unless I'm on top of you at the moment, heh.” The joke passed over Cas's head, and he sniffed warily at the beer. “Come on.”

Dean led Cas through the sliding glass doors outside to where he'd spotted Sam, but somehow his humongous little brother had sneaked off somewhere. Some kids ran by, screaming. Dean recognized some of them as Benny's little monsters. “Partner,” Benny boomed. He was still wearing his apron, which demanded “Kiss the chef,” and hoisting a beer. He pounded Dean on the back. “Though you might've stood me up!”

“I wouldn't miss this, you know that!” said Dean.

“An' you brang your old auntie along,” said Benny, winking at Cas, who of course completely missed the joke.

“I am not a relative, I am Dean's plus one,” Cas supplied.

“It's OK, Cas,” laughed Dean.

“It seem to be a common misunderstanding,” sighed Cas.

“You grab a burger yet?” Benny asked. “They're goin' fast!”

“Oh, I would very much like a hamburger.” Cas rubbed his stomach for emphasis. 

“Well, get up on the deck!” said Benny, pointing with his beer bottle.

Dean shook his head at his partner. “You drinking that crap beer, Benny? I brought the good stuff.”

“It's _all_ good stuff, brother!”

“Do you want a burger, Dean?” asked Cas, who was already headed towards the steps. 

“Yeah, yeah, Cas, get me one with everything. Everything!” Dean called after him.

“You already got him trained?” Benny was grinning after Cas in an entirely too smug manner. But he turned to Dean, and his expression turned serious. “You trust him?”

“He's a good guy, Benny.”

But Benny's attention suddenly shifted. “Jody! Good to see you, girl!” He stepped up and enfolded her in a bear hug, and then turned to the boy next to her. “An' who is this handsome young fella? This your date?”

The boy, who'd born a serious expression, cracked a smile. “Noooo! I'm _Owen_ , Uncle Benny.”

“You can't be Owen! You're a good six or eight feet tall!” Benny enthused, grabbing the boy and hoisting him up high. Owen was now dissolving into giggles. Benny returned him to the ground just in time for a little girl to run up, take Owen's hand, and drag him off towards the lake shore. 

“We're gonna go in the row-y boat, daddy!” she sang.

“Now you go in the row-y boat, you make dang sure you got your life jackets on,” Benny scolded, following them down like a good Mama duck.

Dean laughed – something about his tough as nails partner saying “row-y boat” just got to him. “Dean.” Dean turned towards Jody. She looked concerned.

“You and the boys went out to Valleydoo the other day?”

“Yeah.” Dean's good humor evaporated. Oh, boy, where would he start?

“You know, they closed it off.”

That got Dean's attention. “They shut off the house?” Well, they had construction equipment around, he supposed they could have slapped up some kind of fence.

“The whole valley.”

“Wait, what?”

“Pam told me, and I didn't believe her, so I drove on over to take a look. Figure even if it's all Roman, it's still in my wheelhouse. Well, I'll be god damned, but there was a gate put up, right at the turn off.”

“A gate?” 

“And a wall. High one, too. Like those old pictures of the Berlin Wall? Razor wire and everything?”

“Jody, what the fuck?”

“My thoughts exactly. Far as I can tell, he's bought up the whole valley – it's his right. But damn. Don't wanna be livin' in World War III, if you know what I mean.”

Not for the first time, Dean felt a chill. 

Jody was still speaking. “Pam's probably getting out, and I don't wonder if I'm gonna be right behind her.”

“Moving out of Bitterroot, Jody?”

“Owen's grade school can't even field a little league team. I'm sure they're gonna shut the junior high.”

While Dean was mulling that over, he noticed Cas picking his way down the stairs, carrying paper plates that held two enormous hamburgers. “You said everything, Dean. Is this acceptable?” he asked as he presented Dean with his monstrosity.

“I'm gonna need a bigger mouth!” Dean laughed, setting down his beer. 

“Is this wrong?” Cas asked, now crestfallen.

“Naw, Cas, this is excellent!” Dean set down the plate next to his beer, grabbed the messy burger with two hands, and managed to chomp off a rather large bite. “Oh, man,” he said through burger. “This is heaven!”

“Dean, don't talk with your mouth full like that!” Jody scolded, but she was laughing. 

Dean slung an arm over Cas's shoulders. “Best burger ever,” Dean spat. “An' you are the best plus one ever, Cas!” Cas looked as if he would explode with happiness.

“Got a special guest,” said Benny, who was now, oddly enough, wearing a child-sized life jacket over his apron. Dean immediately recognized the dark-eyed woman, as well as her small child. “This here is Miss Lisa Braeden, an' my little Mini Me, Ben!”

“Cassie!” shouted Ben, who flung himself at Cas. Cas awkwardly balanced his burger and managed to hoist Ben up on his hip. 

“I am very glad to see you,” Cas told Ben. “I hope you are feeling well.”

Ben held up his bangs – his booboo was healed.

Lisa was over next to Cas as well. “I am so, so sorry, Mr. Novak! I completely misunderstood.”

Cas let Bean wriggle back down to the ground. “You were protecting your son,” he stated firmly. “No apologies are needed.”

Dean realized that he hadn't seen Lisa Braeden since Cas brought Ben into the station all those weeks ago. He'd let Benny take on interviewing her and Ben, since Benny had such a way with kids. And true to that, another of Benny's girls came romping up. Dean wasn't good at guessing kid ages, but she looked more or less Ben-sized. “Play pirates?” she asked.

Ben gazed up at his mom, looking for permission. You could see Lisa steeling herself. “You go ahead, have fun,” she told Ben.

The tore off screaming, and Lisa looked after them, biting her lip. Jody looked at Lisa, obviously putting two and two together. “Hey, you know what?” she said. “I know the secret location of the pirate ship.”

“What? How did you happen into that forbidden knowledge, Miss Jody Mills?” asked Benny.

“Well, I'll tell ya, it's a pirates tale. Come on,” she urged Lisa. “Let's go see if we can find those scalawags. She marched a grateful looking Lisa off

“Did you want another burger, Dean?” inquired Cas, who held up an empty plate. 

“Wait, you finished all ready?” Dean asked. Cas grinned. “I'm still workin' on this, but you go ahead and make me another, I'll try to get this finished off.” Cas turned on his heel and made for the steps up to the upper deck.

“Hey, I didn't know you and Lisa were friends,” Dean told Benny between bites of his burger.

“The gal is new here, and I didn't wanna leave her with a bad impression! And my lady took to her.” He turned to Dean, sizing him up. “I invited her along today thinkin' the two of you might hit it off. Didn't realize you were bringin' that Castiel fella along.”

“And, you got something you wanna say about that?” Dean asked, wiping his mouth on a sleeve.

“Yep. You keep bringing him along, you warn me, 'cause I gotta stock up on more burgers!”

“Guess he finished that one pretty fast.”

“That's his second. He wolfed one down gettin' yours all stacked up.”

“Impressive,” said Dean.

“Now, I gotta go get ahead of him. Boy's got hollow leg.” Laughing, Benny headed up after Cas.

Dean stood there for a bit, not eating his burger, not doing much of anything. So much had happened in the last couple weeks. And he still had to find Sam.

Just as the thought struck him, Jess came down the stairs, towing his brother. “Dean! I just talked to your plus one!” sang Jess. Dean gave her a mustard-y kiss on the cheek. Sam came along with her, standing silently behind her. She waved a finger in Dean's face. “You better not break up with him! You'll have me to answer to.” 

“Jess,” said Sam.

Jess rounded on her boyfriend. “Cas is completely adorable, Sam! You know it. Your brother needs someone to keep him from crashing and burning! Like you need me.”

Sam's features softened, and he gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek. Dean tried to figure out how to get Sam off on his own so they could have a confab about Eleanor Visyak. 

Of course, that was exactly the moment that who should appear but Judge Singer, his new girlfriend on his arm, smiling behind a pair of dark sunglasses.

“Well, lookee here! If it ain't my two boys!” Judge Singer gave Jess a peck on the cheek, and then went to sling an arm around Sam and Dean. “When the hell did you two idjits get so tall? I don't remember such a thing!”

“He's the one who's out of control,” joked Dean, pointing to his brother. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eleanor whisper something to Jess, and he got a chill. 

“You get something to eat, Bobby?” asked Sam. Jess couldn't help but wrinkle her nose, but Bobby was a big fan of Benny's grilling.

“We come down here because Benny's on his next batch of burgers. Seems it's all been going into that one's gullet!” He hiked a thumb at Cas, who was once more ambling downstairs with his ridiculous burger creations. 

“I made you another burger,” Castiel told Dean proudly, handing over the sloppy concoction.

“I'd sure like to have my first burger,” Bobby grumbled.

Cas took a generous bite of his hamburger. “This is only my third.” He stopped to consider. “Or is it my fourth?” 

“Son, you're a garbage gut!”

“I would hardly term Benny's creations as garbage. They're rather delicious.”

“I wouldn't know.”

Eleanor slid an arm around Jess's shoulders and walked her a short distance away.

“Hey, tell you what, Cas,” said Dean. “Why don't you take Judge Singer upstairs and show him how you put a burger together, because these are the best!” 

“You promise he won't take a bite outta me?” Bobby groused, but Cas was already dragging him upstairs. 

Dean glanced at Eleanor and Jess, who were still conversing. Sam started to go after Bobby, but Dean grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Dean, I want something to eat!”

Dean put a finger to his lips and led a reluctant Sam off to a less crowded part of the lakeside, on the other side of the boathouse.

Sam's stomach rumbled and he glared at Dean. “Hey, you wanna bite of mine?” Dean asked. Sam didn't wait to be invited twice to help himself. He grabbed the burger off Dean's plate and dug in. “Hey, this is good,” he said, ketchup dribbling down his chin.

“Cas puts together a good burger.”

“OK, what's the deal with Cas?” asked Sam.

“What do you mean?”

“You're answering a question with a question. That's annoying.”

Dean sighed and watched his burger disappear. “Cas is... Cas is my plus one.”

“Cas is your date?”

Dean chewed on that while Sam chewed on his dinner. “You know I don't date.... I don't date men.”

“No, of course not. You just sleep with 'em, and then try to get 'em out of the house before dad wakes up.”

“Dad is dead,” Dean said sadly.

“Does that change anything?”

“Why are you up in my ass about this?”

“Look, I like Cas, I do! But I also know you.”

“You gonna at least save me a bite of that?”

Sam held up the bit of burger he had yet to consume, and tossed it back on Dean's paper plate.

Dean ate it. He wasn't proud. “Look, Cas and hamburgers - that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. It's Eleanor Visyak.”

“Bobby's girlfriend?”

“Cas's brothers showed me pictures.”

Sam laughed. “No way! She's a porn actress?”

“They met her at a dinner party. Thrown by H.P. Lovecraft.” 

Sam had to mull this over for a while. Dean waited for the wheels to turn. “Shit. How old is she?”

“I don't know. She might be another immortal thing. Like Edgar.”

“Crap. Crap! She was talking to Jess.”

“Yeah, I saw. That might be a way. According to Gabe and Raph, she might be bitter about Dick Roman. And she also might have some kinda magical weapon we could use against him.”

Sam was shaking his head. “What? A magical sword? Like Zelda?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“I feel like I'm in a freaking video game. It's dangerous to go alone!”

“Let's try and, you know, just sidle up to her. Cas knows too, but... Well, you know how he is.”

“Yeah, we'll be so much smoother,” laughed Sam. “Hey, we heard you're a murderous, immortal bitch!”

Dean laughed too. “Well, at least we're not goin' alone, right?” He rolled up his paper plate. “Come on. Maybe we can share another burger?”

“I thought Cas was your plus one?”

Dean started to walk, but then stopped. “Seriously, you think I'll fuck it up, Sammy?”

“Don't fuck it up, OK?”

Dean nodded. He started around the boathouse, and nearly ran into another guy, standing huddled over a joint he was trying to light. “Cheezits!” said Ash, flinging his hair around. “The fuzz.”

“Ash,” said Dean.

“Hey, Ash,” said Sam. 

“And the long arm of the law. How you guys?”

“We're good,” said Sam, raising his eyebrows.

“You know what you're smoking is still technically illegal?” said Dean.

“Is that what it was when we were doin' it in high school?” Ash grinned.

Sam signaled that he was going. Dean lingered behind. “How's things at your tourist trap?”

“It's a mystery spot, dude!” Ash lit up and waved his arms around. “Defies the laws of physics!”

“Seriously?” Dean leaned against the side of the shack.

“Naw. It's serious bullshit. But we're doing all right. Rufus claims there's actual haunts up there, but that dude is seriously off his nut.”

Dean looked around, and so did Ash. Ash handed over the joint, and Dean took a rather generous puff. He held it in for a long moment, and then watched the smoke emit from his nose. “I heard everyone who's anyone is doing the vape thing,” he said, coughing slightly.

“I'm just old school,” said Ash, taking the joint back.

“Thanks, buddy. I needed that.”

“Any time, Officer Friendly.” 

Dean turned to go, but then turned around, scored another toke (or maybe two), and finally went his way. He heard the sound of laughter, and stopped to watch some kids fooling around in the “row-y boat.” Little Ben was out there, the bright orange life vest almost bigger than him. Dean grinned, and had a brief flash of Sam at that age, bright and happy and full of life. 

Ben glanced over at him.

But was not Ben. It was little Justin Fogler.

Dean stepped back abruptly, nearly losing his balance on the slippery grass. Then he turned and went in search of his brother, and Jess. And Eleanor Visyak. He walked back by the lakeside, but didn't see any of them in the group by the lake. 

After stopping to chat with a couple of people he walked into the house. Benny had apparently abandoned the grill temporarily to tend bar. People seemed to be drinking something colored a bright red. Another group of people was gathered around the pool table. Rufus Turner was there, chalking up his cue. “Hey, Dean! I expect to beat your ass!” he called.

“Maybe later,” Dean told him. “You seen my brother?” A few fingers and beer bottles pointed upstairs. Dean ascended the narrow stairway. There were a lot of people gathered in the kitchen and living room area, around the piano and tables with snacks and desserts and yet more drinks. Dean snagged some mini bagel dogs and continued outside where there were reports of Sam lurking. 

He walked out of the sliding glass doors onto the upper deck. Benny had closed the lid on the grill for now, but there were still brats in the dishes, so, feeling unaccountably hungry, Dean helped himself, not bothering to make a Cas-like creation, but grabbing a bun and then drizzling on some sticky mustard and relish. There weren't as many people gathered here as before, but he rounded the corner and came on Bobby and Cas, looking a lot like they were in the middle of a job interview, Bobby sitting back, firing questions; Cas sitting up perfectly straight, his hand even coming up to adjust his tie, which he wasn't actually wearing today. 

“Look at that!” huffed Bobby as Dean sat down next to them. “You two boys never gonna have a lick of food in the fridge.”

“I'm starving!” Dean protested. “Sam ate my burger.”

“You seen that brother of yours around? His gal walked off with mine, and I haven't seen either of them since.”

Dean paused in chewing. “Uh, I was just looking for Sam.”

“Well, they're around somewhere I reckon. Probably started a knitting circle.” He rose up and stood, hands on hips. “S'pose I better go look for 'em, before they get into too much trouble.” He extended a hand. “Castiel, it's been a genuine pleasure meetin' ya.”

Cas eyed Bobby's hand curiously for an awkward moment, and then clasped it and shook. “Did he get the job?” asked Dean.

“That's up to you, isn't it boy?” asked Bobby, clapping him on the back. He walked back towards the house.

Dean found he was beginning to worry, but it was half-formed. “Cas, you seen Sam?” 

Cas's mouth edged into a small smile, and he pointed in back of Dean. 

Someone seized his shoulder, and Dean nearly jumped out of his skin. “Dean!”

“Oh, god dammit, Sammy!” Dean held his chest, and tried to force his heart to slow down.

Sam dropped down in the chair Bobby had just vacated and moved close. “You guys find Jess?”

“I was not looking for her, Sam.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Bobby just said he hasn't seen her or Eleanor,” Dean informed him.

“OK, hey, you guys.” Now it was Sam's turn to look panicked. “My girlfriend goes off with an immortal monster? And we can't find her.”

“Sam, OK, breathe,” said Dean. “Like Bobby said, they're probably off chatting about knitting or some girl shit.”

“Jess doesn't knit.”

“We will cover ground faster if we split up,” said Cas.

“Cas,” said Dean. “Don't go jumping to conclusions.” Dean took a breath. “Now, maybe, we split up and search.” Sam glared. “Cas, can you do that – shadow thing – whatever?”

“Yes, there are some good locations in this vicinity for observation,” said Cas.

“Well, good. Then you take outside – scan the roadway too, and the lake up and down, in case they took a row-y boat.”

“A row-y boat?” Sam had to ask. 

“Benny speaks Dad. 

Cas already standing. He looked around and, evidently deciding the coast was clear, was swallowed by a shadow.

Sam blinked. “Okaaaay,” said Dean. “Sam, the house is just the first level and the basement, but it goes to the west pretty far, with a lot of little rooms. You take upstairs, it's mostly just bedrooms as far as I remember.”

“And you?” Sam asked.

“There's some storage downstairs, but if I get caught where I'm not supposed to be, I can play drunk and stupid better than you.”

“True!” Sam leaned towards his brother and took a sniff. “Just how long were you hanging with Ash.”

“I take the fifth on Ash and his … medicine. Text me when you find them, and we'll go from there. Now, remember, the way I showed you....”

“Yeah, go to the right.”

“You got it kid!” Dean slapped his brother on the back and they got up to canvass the house, but more methodically this time. Of course Jess was somewhere near, and everything was cool, who cares if she was off alone with a murderous immortal monster and he'd been seeing ghosts of dead kids?

Dean split off from Sam and headed back downstairs. It was beginning to get dark. Everything was cool, everything was fine, his plus one was out flying on magical wings trying to locate his maybe some-day sister-in-law. Yeah, business as usual. 

Jo was facing off against Rufus at the pool table now, and from his glares, he was not doing well. Dean stopped and grabbed something from the bar – one of the weird red drinks. He thought he heard someone call them “Dra-coolers.” He looked around, trying to appear casual, and backed into the hallway leading west. 

The lake was to the west, as was the side of the Lafitte basement that had windows. There was one long, narrow guest room to the south. Dean figured that was a likely spot, since guests sometimes happened in there and sat on the beds to chat. But he was a little compulsive about his right hand rule, so began to go over the north side of the hallway first. The first room he poked his head into seemed like a room of aborted projects – some of Benny's woodworking stuff, and Andrea's sewing machine, as well as the inevitable kid toys. No one was there. The next room was the bathroom. Since the door was locked, Dean decided to wait outside, just in case, but it turned out to be Gordon, one of the beat cops Dean didn't really care for. They glared at one another, and then Dean went inside, locked the door, and checked his text messages. Cas wrote that he hadn't located either woman yet. He flushed the toilet, and then checked himself in the mirror. 

He heard soft voices down the hall. The door next to the bathroom led to a utility room – hot water heater, washer and dryer. So he continued to the door at the far west end of the hallway. Dean had never ventured inside this particular room before, but the door was ajar, and he heard soft voices inside. 

Pushing the door open, he entered, as quietly as possible. He paused, looking around in shock: this was Benny's wine cellar! Man, that was weird. He knew his partner considered himself a gourmet and all, and Benny had breached the topic of retiring and starting a vineyard a couple of times, but Dean had taken it for idle chat. But this was no small stash: there was row upon row of bottles lying in neat wooden racks. Curious, Dean pulled out a bottle at random: Chateau Lafite Rothschild. Damn! Dean didn't know shit about wine, but he knew this was some fancy stuff.

He still heard the soft murmuring again – it sounded like male voices, but maybe Jess or Eleanor were here as well? He walked towards the next aisle, and caught some words. He could see them now, behind a row of bottles. It was just two people, Bobby and Benny. They had a bottle open, and were both swirling some red wine in big, pretentious wine glasses.

“...Yeah, I just didn't expect it to be a fella,” Bobby was saying. 

“Gonna take some adjustment,” Benny added, putting a nose in his glass. “You think you know a guy.”

Dean held his breath. He had been about to go over and break into the conversation, but instead, he found himself retreating, backing out the door. He traced his right hand along the wall, feeling for the knob on the guest bedroom that he knew was there, opened the door, and stumbled in blindly, not bothering with the light. He sat down uncomfortably on one of the bunk beds, the blinds letting in only traces of the weak sunlight, and there he was, for a while. 

And it was many years prior, an early morning, dark like this, letting someone out of the house – no, rushing someone out of the house, let's be honest. It didn't matter: John Winchester was up that morning, for whatever reason. Maybe it was a rare night he wasn't on a bender? Dean didn't remember, and he didn't even remember the poor guy he'd been rushing out the door, still half dressed. 

But he remembered his father's face. The look of disappointment, anger, bitterness. 

He was confused, he told himself. These last couple of weeks had been confusing and upsetting, his whole world turned upside down. Killing monsters with yoyos, and meeting dead kids? He didn't know. He just didn't know any more.

He reminded himself that he still needed to find Jess. Sam had probably already located her upstairs. Or maybe she'd been eaten by one of those things. Fuck his life. 

He forced himself to get up, and nearly upset a cardboard carton stacked by the bed. The Lafittes were using the room for some storage it seemed. He managed to grab the box, but a plastic container on top fell to the floor, opening and spilling LEGO blocks all over the place.

“Dammit!” Dean squatted down to pick up the toys – didn't want anybody stepping on that crap. He tossed some blocks back in the tupperware bin, and then had to lean under the bed to grab a couple of them. He cursed, tossing them in the bin, and then looked up to see Justin Fogler, there patiently assembling a little car. 

“You're not here, buddy,” Dean whispered to him.

Justin snapped together some blocks. It didn't look like a car he was building. Intrigued despite himself, Dean leaned forward.

“Toot toot, here comes the train,” sang Justin, pushing the little vehicle across the floor, right into a little LEGO person Dean had spilled out on the rug.

“No!” shouted Dean, grabbing up the figure. 

“What's the matter?” asked Cas, who was quite suddenly standing in back of him in the darkness. 

“Cas! Don't creep me out like that!” Dean was clutching a little LEGO man to his chest, choking back tears. 

Cas came closer, peering at the object, and then scrutinizing Dean. He had his head tilted, like a puppy trying to make sense of hip-hop. “You are upset, Dean.”

“Yeah. Thank you, Counselor Troi.”

“What is the matter?”

Dean was going to throw some snark, but Cas had this way of looking so earnest. “I'm seein' stuff that ain't there. I'm- I keep thinking I see the Fogler kid, Cas.”

“You saw his spirit the other day. It is quite possible these are indeed visions, if you were able to forge a connection.”

“I don't even know what that means.” He looked at the LEGO man, and then, for some stupid reason, tucked it in a pocket. “Look, did you find Jess?”

“Not yet, but I believe I have an idea. There is something wrong with the house.”

“What's wrong with the house?”

“There is a room that … isn't here.”

Dean sighed. “OK, you lost me again.”

“I got a view of the Lafitte house from above, and compared it to the layout I have been able to ascertain from inside. There is a room missing – an extent of the house visible from above that is not visible from inside.”

“Uh, you sure it's not a crawlspace, utility room, something like that?” 

Cas shook his head. “It would be roughly square in space, so it wouldn't be any crawlspace that I'm familiar with.

Dean thought for a moment. “I just ran into the hot water heater. So probably not a utility room. Where?”

“Adjacent to the kitchen area.”

“Sure it's not a pantry?”

“There is no doorway. At least, not one that's visible.”

“OK, just for fun, let's say you're right. How do we break in?”

Cas smiled faintly. “I know of one way that ought to work. It's blood magic, though, so I would advise keeping witnesses away.”

“Uh, blood magic? Yeah. Let's go up, check with Sam, and figure it out.” Grabbing the door, Dean threw it open and marched into the hallway. He nearly marched right into Bobby.

“Bobby, hey,” said Dean. Just then Cas also emerged from the bedroom. Bobby gazed at the two of them and raised an eyebrow. Dean's cheeks colored. He felt flustered and guilty.

“Oh, uh, this wasn't....”

“Wasn't what?” asked Bobby, who turned and continued on down the hall. 

“What's the matter, Dean?” asked Cas as Dean stood there stewing.

“Just … come on,” moped Dean. They went upstairs and found Sam pretty quickly. He was getting increasingly frantic. Dean pulled him out onto the front porch for a confab, where he and Cas caught him up on the situation. 

“One of those chomper monsters has my girlfriend trapped in an enchanted room?” Sam summarized, and Dean had to give him points for pithiness.

“We will need to move as many people as possible away from the kitchen area,” said Cas.

“People like the kitchen. There's chips!” Dean reasoned.

“We need a distraction,” said Sam.

“Think I got one,” said Dean. He looked up and pointed: there was a rusty basketball hoop sitting in the front yard. 

Sam nodded. “Got a ball?”

Dean grinned and nodded towards the garage.

 

Sam appeared in the Lafitte living room, twirling a basketball on his fingers. “Hey, look what I found in the garage.” Nearly every head turned. 

And then Dean leapt up behind him and tried to steal the basketball. “Ha!” said Sam, passing it to the other hand, almost but not quite knocking over a lamp.

“Quit being a bitch!” Dean called, a bit too loudly.

Sam passed the ball off to a somewhat startled Benny to keep it away from his brother, nearly upsetting a vase and a bowl of taco chips. Benny hooted with laughter and tossed it to Jo, who just missed slamming into the book case trying to pass behind her back to Ash. 

Andrea Lafitte was suddenly in the center of the room, her arms around a vase. “Please! Not in my living room!” she pleaded.

Benny held up a hand and, as his wife gritted her teeth, Ash tossed the ball to him. “Out in the driveway, boys!” he hollered. “I think I'm drunk enough t' challenge the Moose.”

Sam got the ball back and dribbled out the front door, “You wish!” 

“You won't get around me!” Dean yelled at Sam. “Your ass is grass!”

Most of those who had been standing around in the living room wandered out, either to play or spectate. One person stayed behind.

After a moment or two, Dean slipped back inside. He found Castiel in the kitchen. He had grabbed a small serving dish from somewhere, and had one of Andrea's knives at his arm. 

“Ugh!” said Dean as Cas sliced open his own arm and began to let the blood drip into the serving dish. 

“Hold this,” Cas instructed after a small pool had collected in the dish. As Dean hovered over him, Cas began to finger-paint odd sigils onto the kitchen floor. 

Dean looked nervously over his shoulder. “We gotta get a mop,” he muttered.

“There will be no need,” said Cas calmly. He checked over his work, and then stood in the center of everything, while Dean kept checking towards the door for someone wandering in and wondering what the hell they were doing.

Cas began to speak in that weird language he'd used the other day to talk to his brothers. Dean felt his skin prickle. There was a whooshing sound and, to Dean's astonishment, the little blood markings caught fire and sizzled off. 

And then.... Well, if Dean had had to describe it, it was like the space around him reshuffled itself somehow. Things folded and pushed around, kind of like that wild staircase in the Harry Potter movies, only you couldn't see it happening.

When things settled down, he and Cas were looking into a room just off the kitchen. It looked like a little study, with bookcases lining the walls. There were a couple of comfy couches. Jess sat on one, her back towards them.

Eleanor Visyak sat on the other, speaking softly to Jess. She glanced up, flashing a reptilian smile. 

“Jess,” said Dean softly, half relieved and half freaked out. 

Jess immediately turned her head around. She squinted, like someone looking into a light. “Oh, hey, Dean! Eleanor and I were just chatting, about, um....” She looked back around at Eleanor, as if she couldn't recall.

Dean was already in the room, pulling Jess up off the couch. He had to get her away from this woman, and soon. “Come on, Sam was looking for you,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Dean, how unexpected,” said Dr. Visyak. “Come, let's have a little chit-chat.” The teeth showed again, and she patted the seat Jess had just vacated.

Cas scowled at Dean, as if he didn't think this was a good idea. “Cas,” Dean told him. “You and Jess go watch b-ball for a bit, OK?” He handed off Jess to Cas, and then went and stood across from Eleanor as they made their way out of the room.

“What do you got to say?”

Eleanor leaned over and picked up a cup of tea. “I think it's already been said, hasn't it?” 

“What the hell?”

She smiled over her tea, and Dean was sorely tempted to flee the room. He stood his ground. “You already know, don't you? But there are many things we already know.”

“We?”

“We know about Justin Fogler. That wasn't a very good idea. He was doing so well, and now, well, he has many questions. It isn't good for him. We have a safe place for him now – his troubles are over. And we have a safe place for little Freddie as well. You know his situation. Tell me he wouldn't prefer a stable home?”

“I don't think that's what you're offering, you bitch.”

Now there were just teeth showing. She set down her little teacup. “All right, if you'd like to put it that way, let me explain: pretend I want to have a chat with your brother? Or Castiel? Or perhaps I'll talk to Jessica again – there might be a place for the child she's carrying.”

“What?” Dean whispered. 

“You didn't know, did you? Neither do they. But we do.”

Dean struggled to stay calm. He wanted to leap at her, throttle her. But he remembered dealing with Edgar, pumping shot after shot into his body. “OK. You're saying, 'we.' You're part of them now?”

“I always was. And Dean, the Sword of Bruncvik? It's in safe hands.”

He wanted to shoot her in the face. Or run off, get Sam and Jess, and get the hell out of town. Or do something. Where was Gadreel and his fucked up yoyos? 

“Dean, you and I have had a peaceful coexistence up until now. Two ships, passing in the night.” She waved a dismissive hand. “There's nothing wrong with that, dear. Just stay out of my way, and all will be well. In fact, that's a promise. And we keep our promises.” 

And then she sidled away, stopping only to touch Dean lightly on the shoulder. He cringed. There was something so wrong about her. Why couldn't Bobby tell? Why couldn't anyone tell? Was it some kind of enchantment, like the spell that hid away the room? 

He forced himself to walk out of the hidden room. He paused in the kitchen, noticing that someone had taken Cas's bloody dish and set it in the sink. They didn't even notice he had been casting a spell, right under their noses! Dean picked up the dish. They just didn't want to see – none of them. But what could someone like him do against stuff like Edgar and Eleanor and their kind? 

Dean sighed and let the dish drop back in the sink. He went back to the front yard, where the basketball game was still going on. Sam was off to one side, arm over Jess's shoulder, talking to Benny. 

“Yeah, Jess was feeling a little under the weather this morning,” Sam was relating. Jess did look pale. 

“Think I may be coming down with stomach flu,” said Jess, holding her stomach.

“Are you sure it's stomach flu?” asked Dean. Everyone turned to look at him. “Uh, I mean, Benny, I've been warning you about those burgers!” It was lame, and it earned him glare from Benny – how dare anyone cast aspersions on his barbecue – but it got him out of explaining. Eleanor was right. Dammit.

Signaling Dean to call him, Sam escorted Jess back to their car. Dean turned his attention to Cas, who was holding a basketball as if it were an alien relic. 

“I don't understand,” said Jo. “How could you have never played?”

“I have never played, Jo,” said Cas, who was weighing the ball in his hand.

“We need someone to step in for Sam for some half court!” said Ash. 

“The object is to get the ball into the hoop?” asked Cas. They were currently standing at the edge of the driveway, a good half court's distance away from the hoop. 

“More or less,” said Ash, as Jo nodded.

Cas gave a lazy-looking toss of the ball. It arced through the air and passed precisely through the center of the hoop.

“I don't understand the challenge,” said Cas.

“He is so on my team,” said Jo, who had glomped onto his arm. 

“You gonna step in too, Dean?” asked Ash hopefully. He scooped up the ball and tossed it over to Dean.

Dean stopped and thought for a while, and then realized that thinking was the last thing he wanted to do. 

“I'm in,” he said, passing the ball over to Ash. 

 

“Are you all right, Dean?”

Dean was driving Cas back from the party, and realized that he hadn't said a word during the entire trip. “I'm fine,” he said softly as they pulled up in front of Cas's house. 

Dean stared straight ahead in the shared silence for a moment, until he heard the door handle click.

“Cas.” This wasn't going to be easy. Might as well make it quick.

“Yes, Dean.” Cas remained in the seat, one hand on the door, wearing his characteristic puzzled expression.

“Cas.” Dean gripped the steering wheel, as if that could give him stability. “I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I mean, I'm sorry if I did.” He gestured towards the house. “I mean, you guys have a head that watches soap operas. I don't think.... I don't think I'm the guy to deal with that, Cas. You need someone … stronger, I think.”

“Dean.” Dean exhaled, grateful Cas had stepped into the stumbling sputter of words. But now Cas was silent. At last, he continued. “Dean, you may feel you need to step back. I am sorry about this, but the truth is, you can't. You have lived your life in ignorance of some very deep truths. Your eyes have been opened now, Dean. There is no going back. Not now. No matter how much you may wish it.”

“I wish it,” muttered Dean. “I'm sorry.”

The door handle clicked again, and this time, Cas got out of the car. “There is no need to be. By the way.” He turned and leaned in. “I observed you giving your telephone number to Lisa Braeden. I admit that I am ignorant regarding many things, but I'm not stupid.” Then the door slammed, and Cas turned on his heel and marched towards his house. 

Dean looked after him. And then he shifted into gear, and drove away into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

_“Some locals have been calling it the Berlin Wall.”_

Dean and several of his fellow officers stood in the squad room, watching as the cameral panned over the image of a great, razor-wire topped wall that now marked the entrance to Valleydoo.

“Jody wasn't exaggerating,” said Dean, as the image turned to none other than Sheriff Mills, looking as if she'd rather be anywhere else in the world than right there. 

_“I'd like to remind citizens that this this is all lawful activity. Roman Enterprises filed the correct paperwork, and if anyone breaches the wall, it will be considered trespassing.”_

_“What about rumors that the Roman compound has been stockpiling arms.”_

Jody's sour face went even more sour. _“No comment at this time.”_

_“That's silly,”_ scoffed the impeccably put-together Roman spokesman who was now on the screen, Susan somebody-or-other, Dean couldn't see. _“Mr. Roman simply wants to share the joy of nature with his family, like any private citizen. Although I would also like to emphasize that Mr. Roman is a great believer in the Second Amendment!”_

“Sure thing, enjoyin' the view behind his goddamn Great Wall of Bitterroot,” grumbled Benny, who was now standing at Dean's elbow. 

_“Some citizens are not happy about this development.”_

_“Yeah,”_ said Pamela Barnes, identified as a concerned neighbor, _“this is probably it for me. If nothing else, it's an eyesore. I'm an artist, and I originally moved here because of the surroundings, but that slab of concrete wouldn't look good anywhere.”_

“Hey, knuckleheads!” came Victor Henricksen's voice. Dean and Benny turned around. “Lafitte, Winchester: I don't think the good citizens are paying you to catch up on your TV experience.”

“We're keepin' in touch with local developments,” Benny countered, crossing his burly arms.

Henricksen held out a note. “Since you seem to have time on your hands, why don't you go check on this one.”

Benny grabbed the note and rolled his eyes. “The mystery spot? They got vandalized again?”

“Ash claims it's the same person. Just take a ride, and poke around? It's probably some bored teenagers.”

Benny hiked a thumb at the TV screen. “Ain't their mine on the other side of the Roman compound? Maybe Dick's doin' it!”

“Come on, Benny,” said Dean. “I'll drive.” It was a rotten call to take, but it was better than sitting around and stewing. So Dean drove, stewing all the way.

“Sure was nice having y'all over this weekend,” Benny ventured at one point. Dean might have given a grudging nod. “I like Jess a whole lot.”

“So does Sam.”

They continued in silence for a while. Finally, Benny said, “Andrea sure liked your plus one fella. What?” he asked to Dean's snort.

“OK, that? You can just stow the comments. Anyway, as of last night,” Dean waved a hand around, “it's not happening.”

They drove on, Dean silently fuming. 

“You broke up?” Benny asked.

“I guess so. If we were even.... If _anything._ ”

Benny gazed out the window for a bit. Dean got the feeling that this wasn't over. “So, what kinda comments were you expectin', if I might ask?” Benny inquired at length.

“Benny, I walked in on you and Bobby talking.”

“Talking?”

“In the wine cellar! Which I didn't even know about.”

Benny stared at him for while, and then hooted with laughter.

“What the fuck, Benny?”

“I recall the conversation, Dean. I said in all the years we'd been invitin' you over, that was the very first time you'd brang a date. And Bobby said same thing. And neither one of us was gonna be used to you _not_ being one lonely son of a bitch. But if that's what you wanna do, then brother, I can't stop you. But I can't stop myself from tellin' ya, you are one _dumb_ son of a bitch. You shoulda seen the way that Cas fella was lookin' at you!”

Dean drove, cursing that he now had even more to think about. “You.... You like Cas?”

“Course I do. Don't see what he sees in a miserable asshole like you. But yeah.”

“Oh.” 

“And what the hell is this about a secret wine cellar? Ain't no secret! I love me some vino!”

They passed a lurid billboard, “Visit the Mystery Spot!” and turned up a dirt road towards the old mine. A lot of the tourists evidently assumed it was a gold mine or something romantic like that, but in actuality, it was just a sodium tetraborate deposit. It had never been worth a whole lot. But when his high school classmate, Ash, a smart guy who had never really amounted to much, came into an inheritance from some uncle in New England, he'd bought up the land with the intent on turning it into a tourist trap. Because, well, that was an Ash idea.

Ash was now coming down to meet the car. “At last, they sent the A-Team out on this!” he exclaimed when Dean got out of the car.

“Which one of us is Hannibal?” Benny quipped. 

“I pity the fool,” Dean rejoindered. Maybe it had been a good idea to go out on a call, even a dumb one?

“So what's goin' on?” said Benny.

“It's the gift shop again! You guys can see for yourself.” He led Benny and Dean over to the double wide mobile home trailer that served as an office. 

“You remember to lock up at night?” asked Benny as Ash keyed the padlock that had been bolted over the doorway.

“I locked, double-bolted, triple bolted. I've set up alarms, and I got window break alarms in the windows now, hooked up to my laptop. But you can see they're intact. It sets off my motion detectors, sure, but I can't see how they get inside.”

“You ever considered using your considerable talents as a security consultant?”

“I can't even catch one kid!” Ash sighed. He pulled the door open. Benny followed him in, and Dean poked his head in the door. It was a mess in there. Actually, it looked like somebody had taken the trailer out for a joy ride and then brought it back.

“Trailer hasn't been moved?” asked Benny, who was obviously reading Dean's thoughts. 

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Benny nonetheless began making a circuit around the outside of the trailer, kicking the tires and looking for signs of forced entry. 

Ash's partner, Rufus, was now wandering over. “You arrested our poltergeist yet?”

“Your what?” asked Dean.

“It's not a ghost, Rufus,” Ash shouted back from the far end of the trailer.

“Ever since you moved the damn office, Ash. It's the angry spirits,” Rufus told Dean.

Dean did not want to be having this conversation. “Spirits of what? Annoyed tourists?”

“You heard about the cave-in years ago! The restless spirits of the miners are having a say!”

“I thought it was the Indian graveyard below!” Benny chimed in.

Dean rolled his eyes and headed inside the trailer. He doubted he was going to find anything, but he really didn't want to have a chat about ghosts or restless spirits right now. Being careful not to touch anything, he looked around to see if there might be any order in the madness. There were postcards and T-shirts lying in heaps on the floor. He spotted something odd over in the corner, so squatted down to check it out. It was a teddy bear, but a much-used one, the kind a kid had snuggled with for years and years. He reached over to grab the frayed little thing.

He saw his breath.

_Oh, fuck._

Being careful not to move, Dean scanned around him. She was across the trailer from him, about eight or nine years old by the looks of her. She was thin, and had bags under her eyes. She was wearing a scarf wrapped around her head, like you saw the cancer kids do. 

And somehow, Dean knew, she wasn't alive any more.

Letting the Bear drop back to the floor, Dean backed out of the trailer. 

“Maybe you should just change the name to 'Unsolved Mysteries Spot,'” Benny opined.

“Thanks for that, Detective,” Ash grumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“I'm installing cameras next!”

“Cameras won't see 'em,” Rufus told them. “You'd need infrared.”

“Is there anything in that shop that's even worth the fuss?” Benny asked.

“I always get my man!” said Ash. “Even when the local PD couldn't be bothered.”

Benny heaved a sigh. “You see anything in there, partner?” he asked Dean.

“No,” stated Dean. 

And that was all he had to say.

 

Then next day, Dean found himself walking up to a house he thought he might never visit again.

Gabriel answered the door, and then stood there, arms crossed, scowling. Dean had to hand it to him – for a little guy, he could be intimidating when he wanted to. 

“Detective Winchester.”

“I'm off duty,” Dean muttered, feeling like a total shit.

“You here to break my little bro's heart again?”

“Gabe, I'm sorry-”

“I'm not the one you should be down on your knees begging for forgiveness.”

“What's going on?” asked Raphael, who seemed to be just happening by, but upon spying Dean, began glowering over his brother's shoulder. “You,” he said.

“Guys,” Dean began.

“Gadreel!” called Raphael. The yoyo-toting resident of the house ambled into view and began Walking the Dog.

Dean wanted to turn tail and run, but forced himself to continue. “Guys, I saw a ghost!”

“So?” said Gabriel. “Why do we give a shit?”

Dean struggled to explain. “It's what you do, right? I understood from- I mean, that's what I figured.”

Raphael's glare softened a shade. “Well, I supposed he has a point.”

“I'd like to give him a point,” growled Gabriel.

“Should I Around the World him?” called Gadreel.

Dean waved his hands. “There was a ghost! Up at the Mystery Spot! You know, that dumb place by the old mines?”

“Mystery Spot?” asked Gabriel, who seemed intrigued despite himself.

“That ridiculous tourist trap?” asked Raphael. 

“It's by a breach,” said Gadreel as he Cradled the Baby.

“It is?” asked Gabriel.

“A little one,” answered Raphael.

“Guys, will you help me?” Dean asked. “It's a little girl. I think she wants her teddy bear.”

All three brothers now shared a silent glance. “God dammit!” Gabriel finally muttered. “Gadreel, can you watch Dad for a while.”

“Yeah.”

Gabriel turned to Dean. “All right, bucko. We'll go along on this one. We gotta pack our stuff. We'll meet you up there. Oh, and you're still a shithead!”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Dean as Gabriel slammed the door in his face. “I know.” He stood on the porch for a time, loathe to admit to himself that he had come partly about the spirit, but also hoping to catch a glimpse of Castiel.

Dammit.

Dean headed back to the car. His phone went off just as he was firing up the engine. It was a relief to have something else to think about. He clicked the speaker button and tossed the phone onto his dash as he pulled away from the curb. “Yeah?”

_“Hey, Dean!”_ came Sam's voice. _“So, you check out that wall thing Roman is doing?”_

“Yeah, hard to avoid it.”

_“You think that was because of us?”_

“Oh, I know it was because of us. But you saw all that construction equipment. I'm sure he was planning this for a while.”

_“So should we-?”_

“We shouldn't do anything.”

_“But I just thought-”_

“We're gonna give it a rest for now, OK? You saw what that Visyak bitch did with Jess!”

_“Yeah, Jess.”_ Sam was silent for a long moment. _“I thought she was better, but she's sick again this morning.”_

Dean had to smile at that. “Let me guess, tossing her cookies?”

_“Yeah! She doesn't wanna go in-”_

“Doctors are the worst patients. Haul her ass to the ER.”

_“You think so?”_

“Better safe than sorry!”

_“Wait, did my big brother really say better safe than sorry?”_

“My future sister in law, mother of my future nieces and nephews. Yeah, better safe than sorry.” And it would give Sam something to occupy himself until Dean got back into town.

_“I guess you're right. I'll call you when we hear, OK?”_

“That would be good, Sammy. Look, I might be out of range, but don't get any ideas.”

Another pause. _“What are you up to?”_

“Something weird going on up at Ash's new place.”

_“Wait, Mystery Spot?”_

“Don't worry, I'll deal with it.” And then he hit the End Call button before Sam could get any more Nancy Drew ideas into his dumb Moose head.

Dean had to wait for Gabe and Raphael, so he poked around the Mystery Spot for a while, enough to convince him that Ash and Rufus were nowhere near (they generally only worked weekends, as they weren't terribly ambitious). He heard the sound of tires coming up the gravel driveway, but was alarmed when he realized it was Benny's pickup truck.

“Uh, hey,” he said, when Benny got out.

“What the hell you up to, Detective Winchester? You know I could run your ass in for trespassing.”

“I was just, you know, stuff,” Dean explained. 

“Well, my kids told Andrea that Owen told 'em his mom said you were out with your brother, pokin' around in her neck of the woods the other day.”

Dean raised his hands. “You know, sometimes I hate living in a small town.”

“I been figurin' something's goin' on behind my back. You been cheatin' on me with some other po-lice!”

“How the hell did you find me?”

“Your brother called. He was babbling about this and that and the other, and then he said you were headin' off on your own to fight some monsters?”

“Well, uh, technically....”

Benny stood, arms crossed. “Yeah?”

“This one's not a monster, it's a ghost....”

That tore it. “You outta your fucking head, Dean?”

“And I'm not alone.” There was another car coming up the gravel road. This one was very familiar too.

“Oh, sweet,” said Benny as the 1968 Corvette Stingray in shiny Le Mans Blue pulled up and Gabriel and Raphael climbed out. “Oh, nasty,” said Benny, wrinkling his nose. “How the bloody blazes did you end up with this?”

“Well, Edgar ain't exactly using it any more,” said Gabriel with a grin.

“I'll explain later,” said Dean. “it's a long story.”

“I got time,” said Benny.

“Laters,” said Gabriel, who popped the Corvette's trunk and began to unload. “You take this, big boy,” he said, offering a shotgun to Benny.

“I got a weapon.”

Gabriel opened the gun and pulled out a shell. “These are filled with salt. Designed to disperse your standard grade entity. He clicked the gun back together and handed it to Benny. “You, take this,” he continued, handing Dean a fireplace poker.

“Am I gonna be toasting marshmallows?”

“Cold iron. Also useful against entities. Ghostbusting 101, gentlemen!” He grabbed a leather-bound book from the trunk. “Now, where is the spirit in question?”

“I saw her in the trailer.” Dean pointed to the mobile home.

“Huh. You'd think ghosts would have higher standards,” said Gabriel, looking down his nose at the trailer. “You ready, Raph?”

Raphael had pulled out a violin case and was fussing over it.

“Raph,” said Dean, that's not-?” The case popped open. “Oh, violin.”

“What were you expectin'?” asked Benny. “Or is that another long story?”

“Um, it's actually the same long story,” Dean admitted.

“And it isn't a violin,” sniffed Raphael.

“Naw, it's a viola,” said Benny, causing Raphael to stare at him. “What? Don't you think I got no culture? I listen to every concert you guys put on. You play a mean Peer Gynt.”

“Come on, you guys, we don't got all day,” said Gabriel, who was now standing in front of the trailer. 

“You claim you saw a ghost in here?” asked Benny.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean admitted.

“The other day?”

“Yeah.”

“When we was up here?”

“Yeah, Benny, I think I saw a ghost, OK?” Dean was red-faced, and now disbelieving himself. He stormed over to the door of the trailer. “And you might wanna get out of here, right now.”

“Oh, no, I ain't goin' anywhere!”

Dean turned and easily jimmied the lock on the trailer, and he and Gabriel went inside. It had been picked up (well, more or less) a little bit since he and Benny had answered the call. “I saw her over there.” He gestured towards the corner. The little ragged teddy bear was now sitting on the counter by the cash register. “I think- I saw her when I picked this up. I think it was hers maybe?”

Gabriel snatched it out of Dean's hand and marched back outside. “All right, Raph, we got an anchor point, do your thing.”

Gabriel set the teddy bear on the ground in front of his brother. Raphael put his viola to his chin and began to play a low, mournful tune. 

Benny had come up next to Dean. He nudged him. “And that calls the ghostie?” he whispered.

“I have no clue.”

“Anything about this seem on the … whack-a-doo side to you?”

“Everything about this seems on the whack-a-doo side,” said Dean with a deep sigh. He started – when he exhaled, he saw his breath. He nudged Benny, who saw it too.

“Holy _merde_ ,” whispered Benny. There was now a little girl standing by the trailer. The same one Dean had seen the other day, with a scarf wrapped around her head.

“Nice scarf, Juliette,” said Gabriel.

“What?” asked Dean.

Gabriel pulled a newspaper clipping out of his book and showed it to Dean. “Research, knucklehead. Cancer kid. She came up here as a last wish.” 

Dean found this more incomprehensible than the ghost. “She wanted to come here?” 

Gabe shrugged. “Kids always wanna stop at the damn Mystery Spot,” said Benny.

Gabe took a step towards Juliette, but her image faded. “Damn, she's not jiggy with me. Dean, you wanna try?”

“I dunno. Benny? You can always talk to kids.”

Benny looked at the girl, and then the teddy bear. Handing his shotgun to Gabe, he bent down and grabbed the bear, and then walked towards her. “So, you come back for this?” he asked, hunkering down so he was more or less eye level with her.

She didn't answer, but took a halting step towards Benny. He smiled, and placed the bear down on the ground between them. She took another step, and then another, and then jumped to tackle the bear. But instead she passed right through it.

“Yep, she's a new one,” said Gabriel.

“What?” asked Dean.

“Takes 'em a while to be able to manipulate objects in our universe.”

The little girl ghost was now sitting on the ground next to the bear, crying little ghost tears. “Aw, honeybun, it's all right,” said Benny. He tried to pat her on the shoulder, but his big hand went right through her. “Look, Mr. Bear is right here, see?” he picked up the plush toy and set it down right beside her. 

Raphael had ceased playing. “Go get the lighter fluid,” Gabriel whispered.

“Wait, what did you say?” asked Dean as Raphael went back to their car.

“We figured out her anchor.” Gabriel waved at the bear. “It's keeping her here. We gotta burn it to break the bond.”

“You ain't doin' no such thing!” boomed Benny, who now grabbed the bear and hugged it to his chest. “This is her little friend! Ain't that right?” he asked the ghost, who nodded through tears.

“Uh, I have another question,” said Dean. “When Benny and I came up here the other day, that whole trailer had been tossed. There was stuff everywhere! But you just said she's new, Gabe, and she can't even pick up her own teddy bear.”

As if in answer, a horrible howling sound came from overhead, and Dean found himself knocked over by … something.

He managed to get up on one elbow just in time to see Gabriel fire the shotgun at something that looked like an angry patch of fog. If a patch of fog could be said to be angry. Benny was trying to shield the little ghost, and Raphael was now running back with a bottle of lighter fluid. 

“They can come in packs,” said Gabriel. “There's some kinda hole between dimensions here.”

“But you got it?” asked Dean, who wondered what could come of “killing” a ghost.

“No, just dispersed it for now. I gotta look through this book and find the right spell to send it back. Cover me.” He handed the shotgun over to Dean and then sat down, cross-legged, on the ground, leafing through the book, which looked quite old, though it had a few sticky notes on the pages.

“Give me the bear,” said Raphael, holding up the lighter fluid.

“Ain't giving you the bear!” Benny warned him.

“We have to send her back,” said Gabriel as he scowled at his book. “Or she'll get as crazy as the other one.”

“Where did it go?” asked Raphael, who cried out as he suddenly was thrown against the trailer along with Benny and the teddy bear. Dean fired the shotgun in the general direction of the patch of haze, which had somewhat solidified into a shape that resembled a man, and once again it disappeared. 

“Gimme that!” shouted Benny, grabbing back the shotgun. “You try that again, motherfucker, I'll fill ya so full of lead....”

“It's salt,” supplied Gabriel, who was still leafing through his book.

“So full o' salt you'll look like a Margarity glass in June!”

“Southern people have such a bewitching way with language,” mused Raphael. 

Something howled, and Dean made it around quick enough to swing at it with the poker. He missed, but Gabriel – having evidently settled on the correct spell – began to speak in a language that sounded like Latin. The apparition fizzled and condensed into a man for a moment. Then it howled again and sent Dean sprawling face-first on the ground.

“That way!” yelled Gabriel. Dean heard the sound of footsteps running off. He lay on the ground for a long moment, trying to come to his senses.

He smelled fire. “Dammit, Raph!” he whispered, as he pushed himself up. This was gonna hurt tomorrow. Raph was poised over the teddy bear, watching as it was consumed by flames.

“We must do this, Dean. It will release her,” Raphael told him. 

“Raph!” came Gabe's cry. Raphael ran off.

Dean blinked. It was weird – like he was in the movie theater again, entering Mordor. Wincing, he sat up and watched sadly as the teddy bear was reduced to ashes.

The little girl ghost – Juliette, Gabe had called her – was now sitting at his side. Dean tried to think of something comforting. He was so bad with kids! “Uh, I guess we gotta do this. I mean, sorry? But you don't wanna hang around, right?”

Dean noticed he could see his breath again. Disoriented, he rubbed his arms and shivered, hugging himself. Juliette was no longer looking at him. Instead, she was gazing up at a goth girl, who was now standing nearby.

Wait, what goth girl?

She had dark hair and dark eyes, and was dressed all in black. She extended a pale hand, and Juliette, sparing a glance at Dean, rose to take it. As Dean watched, hypnotized, they walked away a few steps, hand in hand, to where they were met by a tall, gaunt man. The tall man nodded towards Dean, and then the three of them walked off and disappeared.

A ghostly howl snapped Dean back to the present. He hit the ground as something cold and furious passed right over him. He looked up, wondering where the poker had gone. He whirled around, and it was right over him, hideous face wrenched into an unearthly scream.

And then....

Everything went black. But it wasn't a scary, dramatic, “just got cracked in the head” kind of black. It was a warm, calm, cinnamon-scented black, like you were lying back on a plush down comforter with a tree-hugger girlfriend who liked a lot of candles.

Dean opened his eyes. 

He looked down and down and down through the branches of the tree he was now sitting in.

He yelped and hugged more tightly to the tree trunk.

“You are safe now, Dean.”

There was no mistaking the voice. Dean tried to wriggle himself tighter into the crook of the tree where he was presently sitting, and then dared a glance out to the person who was speaking. Cas was perched on the branch – there was really no other word for it, as he wasn't sitting there, but more like crouching, carelessly, in his slippery dress shoes – peering at whatever was going on down below. 

“Cas?”

Castiel sighed, and Dean feared for his life. He turned towards Dean. “I did not wish to see you assaulted again. I can return you to the ground, if this is what you wish.”

Fighting his every instinct – he just plain didn't care for heights – Dean forced himself to focus his gaze towards the ground below. Cas had picked a good spot, as this tree afforded a very good view of the goings on around the Mystery Spot trailer. Dean heard the howl of a ghost, and then saw Benny, Gabriel, and Raphael, looking far too much like a bunch of poorly animated Saturday morning cartoon characters, chasing after the spirit. After a moment, circumstances would change, and it would be the spirit now chasing after the ghostbusters.

“Your brothers – they _have_ done this before, right?”

Cas tilted his head. “Yes.” He mulled it over for a while. “Though it has been a while. And Gabriel and Raphael do share a tendency towards over-confidence.”

Cas looked at Dean. And Dean immediately began feeling like a shit. “Cas, I'm a real jerk.”

“Yes.” And then Cas went back to watching his brothers.

Dean cautiously released his hold on the tree somewhat. “No, I mean, I'm a real jerk.”

“Yes.”

“What you said? About not being able to close my eyes to this stuff? You were right.”

“Yes.”

Dean huffed. God dammit! It was like talking to a brick wall. “Am I under arrest?”

Cas glanced over at him. “I'm sorry? Oh!” Dean was actually rewarded with a small smile. But then Cas frowned. “You are amusing, Dean. But I am still terribly mad at you.”

“OK, but I miss you. You're great. And I wanna try again. OK? Though I'll probably mess up this one. Look, I'm an idiot-”

“Yes.” 

Dean threw up his hands in frustration, and then panicked and grabbed the tree again. 

“I am simply trying to be agreeable, Dean.” Dean waited, and then there was that small smile again.

“You fucker!”

They sat in silence for a while, watching the chaos down on the ground for a while. As it turned out, there was more than one additional angry spirit entity. Dean counted at least three. After a few rounds of mad chases and getting knocked around, it seemed Gabriel got one and then another with some kind of recitation from the book. The last entity appeared to be more wily, and it began to blow the pages around as Gabriel attempted to read from them, which (judging from their body language) annoyed him, frustrated Raphael, and amused Benny.

“Should we, you know, help?” Dean asked Cas.

“I am certain my brothers – and your partner – will prevail.”

Dean had a sudden realization. “Hey, you're up in a tree.”

“So, I believe, are you,” Cas said dryly.

“No, no, I mean, this is how you saw those kids trying to take the Braeden boy, isn't it? You were up in a tree? Watching him?” They hadn't been able to figure out how he'd witnessed all those incidents at such a distance from each other. But the park – there were trees all over the place!

Cas looked wistful. “I often watch. It lends perspective.” He glanced at Dean. “I- I wasn't supposed to intervene at that point. But I couldn't conscience watching them take Ben Braeden – they had already caused him harm.”

“You're an old softie, huh? And how about when I went to look for Justin Fogler?”

“Yes, Dean. I didn't think you could see me.”

“I'm ignorant – not stupid.”

They gazed at one another. “So, would you, um, maybe take me back?” asked Dean.

That small, wistful smile broke through again. “I believe I already said yes.”

“But I couldn't tell what you were saying yes to! Getting back together, or that I'm a jerk.”

“Yes. To both.”

“We gotta work on this communication thing!”

Cas was smiling openly now. Dean was much pleased. He once again loosed his grip on the tree, and scooted over on the branch, so he was nearer to Cas. He grew a little more confident, even swinging his legs. He recalled a childhood taunt. “Hey, Dean and Castiel, sittin' in a tree!”

Cas's smile melted away, and now he was gazing at Dean with a puzzled expression. Dean grinned. How he'd missed that!

“I'm sorry?” said Cas.

“You know, _Dean and Cas, sittin' in a tree...._ ”

Cas looked sweetly puzzled.

So Dean showed him the next part.

And Dean managed a yelp as the effects of gravity took hold.

They reappeared on the ground, wrapped together, just as Gabriel was banishing the last spirit. They had traced some kind of trap on the ground, with plenty of those weird squiggles scrawled here and there.

“Nice of you to join us now that we've done all the work!” said Benny.

“Hey, Cassie! What's going on?” demanded Gabriel, just as the spirit went whoosh!

Dean blinked around. “Where's the goth girl? And the dude?”

“What goth girl?” asked Gabriel.

“When the little girl spirit went back, there was a cute girl who held her hand, and a tall dude.”

Raphael crossed his arms. “It could be a reaper.”

“But you can't _see_ reapers, duh!” said Gabriel.

“What the hell is a reaper?” asked Benny. “And why the hell didn't we call 'em to get rid of those damn foggy things?”

“Reapers are the entities which guide departed spirits to the otherworld,” Raphael explained.

“And why would there be two for just one little girl?” asked Gabriel. 

“Perhaps the gentleman wasn't a reaper,” Cas ventured. There was an awkward silence, both Raphael and Gabe aiming glares at Dean. 

Benny broke the silence. “Dean, ain't this your plus one?”

“Dean is-” Cas began, but Dean gripped his arm.

“Hang on,” said Dean. He stared hard at Cas. “He's not my plus one. He's....” Dean and Cas now looked deeply into one another's eyes.

Dean awkwardly punched Cas in the shoulder. “Boyfriend.”

“Well, ain't that romantical,” laughed Benny. He reached out a hand. “Glad to meetcha.” Cas shook hands with him.

“So we can take him off Gadreel's hit list?” Gabriel asked, though he did not appear to completely endorse this eventuality.

“Uh, please, Cas? I don't wanna have 'Killed by yoyo' on my tombstone.”

“What?” asked Benny. “Oh, wait, right, long story.”

But before anyone could begin to relate the long story to Benny, there came the sound of yet another car making the drive up the gravel road. Dean recognized it immediately. The car jerked to a halt, and Sam emerged, looking breathless and confused. “Dean! Dean, are you all right? I called Benny, Dean!”

“Uh, yeah,” said Dean.

“Right here,” said Benny, raising a hand.

“Yeah! Yeah, right.” Sam sagged back against the fender of his crappy car. 

“Sam, you OK?”

Sam stared off into space. “Dean. It's Jess!”

Dean waited a beat. He smiled, now knowing what was coming. “You took her to the doctor.”

“We're pregnant!” Sam exclaimed. “There's going to be a baby! We'll have a baby! I mean, Jess will have a baby! And I'll be the father!”

“Well, I hope so,” said Gabriel. “See if it comes out with antlers.”

Benny burst into laughter. “Well, congratulations, dad!” He wrapped Sam in a bear hug, and added a couple pats on the back.

“There's gonna be a baby,” Sam explained.

“That's usually the result,” said Benny, nodding wisely, but casting a side eye at Dean. “Hey, this means you're gonna be a uncle!”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean admitted.

“What?” Benny was staring now.

“It was fairly obvious,” said Cas. 

Benny was now staring between Dean and Cas. “It was? She can't be too far along.”

“There are two souls,” Cas explained with an air of infinite patience. He looked around. “It generally occurs in the context of pregnancy.”

“Is anybody else gettin' saturated with the sheer magnitude of weird hereabouts?” Benny demanded.

“There's more, actually,” Dean told him. Benny sighed. “Much more.”

“The big question is, you gonna make an honest woman of her?” Gabriel asked Sam, who turned pale. 

“Well, I got that taken care of,” Benny announced. “Andrea's sister, she's a weddin' planner!”

“Wait, is that really a thing?” Dean asked.

“Of course it's a thing. It's what she does.”

“Oh. Thought it was only in JLo movies.” 

“Our string quartet could play,” Raphael volunteered. “We have an extensive selection for special occasions.”

“That would be right nice!” Benny declared. 

“And I could officiate. I'm a justice of the peace in this county,” said Gabriel.

“But guys!” pleaded Sam, looking terribly sheepish. “There's something-”

“You mean the looming threat of the otherworldly evil Richard Roman and his confederates intend to introduce into this dimension?” asked Cas.

“Well, there's that. But also, I haven't asked her!”

The gathered group of men collectively moaned and rolled their eyes. Dean's phone buzzed at him, and so did Benny's. Both of them looked at their text messages. 

“Frank's workin' on a weekend?” laughed Benny.

“Or he's letting the computer work,” said Dean. “It's those mall videos. It would be sweet if we could tie Roman in with that case. Let's get down there and take a look.”


	12. Chapter 12

Owen Mills liked school. He was good in math, and he was pretty smart. 

But he mostly liked baseball. He was really excited when he finally graduated from T-ball to the real major league baseball games. His mom seemed to think he would be upset that they had to travel to the next county to find games, but he quickly made friends with the boys and girls on his new team, and he was a good, solid player. 

There were a few things he didn't like, of course. Ricky Smith was one of them. Some of the kids thought he was funny and cool, but Owen got a creepy feeling whenever he was around. There was something empty about his eyes. He told his mom, of course, and surprisingly, she said to trust his gut. She said some people just had instincts like that. But make friends with the other kids and ignore Ricky. 

But sometimes, there were things a guy couldn't ignore.

Owen generally liked Tommy. He was big and a little slow, with a scar on his forehead, and sometimes the other kids teased him, but he was generally OK. Except when he was around Ricky. When Ricky decided to make fun of people, or act like a bully, it seemed Tommy was always there, laughing along with him. Well, it figured, his mom said. A guy gets yelled at at work, he comes home and kicks the dog, she said. Or sometimes takes a swing at his wife. But don't you go repeating that, Owen! 

Small town life.

But today, it was different. Ricky and Tommy weren't picking on anybody. In fact, they had kind of drifted away from the crowd of kids at the game. But what was weird was one of the littler kids had wandered away from a big brother or sister who was supposed to be watching him, and Owen saw Ricky and Tommy walking off with him. 

He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed. Unfortunately, his mom hadn't been able to take him to the game today, so he got a ride here, and then he'd get a ride back. That was fine, except Mom wasn't here to ask, and she was a good person to check with. 

Owen wasn't sure why, but he just had a “gut” feeling about this one. Maybe some day, he'd be a cop, just like his mom? Anyway, he wandered in the direction Ricky and Tommy had taken the little kid, just to see what was going on. He didn't really have a plan, he just had a sense that something wasn't right.

He came around a corner and found big Tommy there, holding hands with the little kid. Now, right there, he might have run back to tell somebody, like his coach or something, but the kid swung around and yelled, “Mommy!” at him. He wasn't the kid's mommy, obviously. But there was probably something not good. He looked around for Ricky, but he guessed Ricky had taken off.

Tommy pulled the kid closer and looked guilty as heck. 

“Hey,” said Owen.

“What?” asked Tommy, who was now looking all over the place.

“Um, who we got here?” he asked the little kid, who was kind of weepy-eyed now. 

“No one,” grumped Tommy.

“I want Mommy!” the tiny kid volunteered. He started tugging at Tommy's hand.

“Uh, I think he wants to go back,” said Owen.

“Get out,” said Tommy. “You're wrecking it!” He waved a hand all around.

“Wrecking what?”

“I'll get in trouble!” said Tommy. 

“For what?” None of this made any sense. He held out a hand. “Hey, come with me, we'll find your mom.”

“What are you doing?” Owen nearly jumped out of his skin. It was Ricky, who had somehow sneaked up in back of him.

Tommy freaked out a little too. Evidently, it was enough for him to loosen his grip on the little kid. The boy yelled and ran off at top speed, back around the corner, towards the game. 

Owen looked at Ricky and then Tommy. He was in the middle of them now. He wanted to run too, but something held him back. “What are you doing, Ricky?” he demanded. Ricky had that mean look, like he got sometimes.

He saw the punch coming a mile away. Fortunately, Owen was a cop's son, and his mom had taught him how to defend himself when other kids came at him. It didn't look good that the sheriff's son got in fights! He ended up grabbing Ricky's fist and twisting his arm around. 

“Ow!” yelled Ricky. Most bullies, his mom had explained, were pretty wimpy. “Tommy, help me dammit!”

Tommy tried to glomp onto Owen now. He was big, but stupid and clumsy. Owen broke the hold, and ran into the street, but was nearly run over by some big van. It was the stupid RomanNewsNetwork van! Wow, his mom hated these people. The van screeched to a stop, but as Owen looked up at them, suddenly, something cracked his head, really hard. 

He saw stars, and fell to the ground.


	13. Chapter 13

“You gonna tell Henricksen?”

“What?” said Dean, who had just arrived in the squad room after a long evening that stretched into an early morning in the company of recently reconciled boyfriend, Castiel. All told, Dean had had a rather excellent time, but unfortunately it hadn't left time for his morning coffee, not to mention much of a night's sleep. 

But the morning shower had been awesome. Epic awesome.

“Uhhhh, you mean about...?” Dean hedged.

Benny leaned back in his chair and took in Dean who, Dean acknowledged, probably looked more than a bit baggy-eyed from it all. “You know, _Hold That Ghost?_ ”

“That's a good flick.”

Benny was chewing on a pencil, as he did when he got thoughtful. “I was talkin' a bit with ol' Raphael after you left. Thinks he can get me and the family ringside tickets to _Peter and the Wolf._ But this-” Benny suddenly dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward towards Dean's desk, lowering his voice, “This ancient menace thing? Sounds serious.”

Looking around the room, Dean hunched over towards Benny and kept his voice low. “Look, Benny, how long have we been partners? But, if you hadn't been there – actually been there, yesterday – would you have believed a word of what I was saying?”

Benny sat back again and scratched his beard. “You got a point, brother,” he said at length.

“Here's what I think,” said Dean. “We go down, talk to Frank, and see what's going on. Just keep everything low key for now.” Dean spread out his hands, to demonstrate his and Detective Lafitte's awesome smoothness. They shared a smile.

But their conclave was interrupted by the persistent thump-thump-thump of rubber on a concrete floor. “I told you not to bring that thing in here,” Henricksen lectured as Sam appeared, nervously dribbling a basketball. “It's not professional!”

“I gotta think,” muttered Sam, who easily ducked Henricksen's clumsy attempt to steal. He passed it around his back and lobbed it over to Dean. “Dean!”

Dean grinned and twirled the ball in his hands. He stood up. “We were just gonna head downstairs.”

“Yes, please take this traveling circus to the basement, where it belongs!” Henricksen ordered. He glared as Dean lobbed the ball back over to Sam, who dribbled it all the way downstairs, as he was really a big jerk.

“About time you guys made it down here,” Frank grumbled when they reached the tech office.

Charlie popped up from behind a shelf of electronic parts. “Hit me!” she hollered, holding up a hand. Sam cheerfully passed her the ball.

Frank cringed. “Will you stop that?” 

“Henricksen already sent us down here,” Dean laughed. “What do you got?”

“I was reviewing the tapes from the security cam outside the mall.”

Charlie pouted as she dribbled the ball. “We were! You never give me credit!” She slapped the basketball and it bonked her in the nose. “Ow!”

“Simmer down and look at these frames!” 

Dean leaned over Frank's shoulder, watching the images sweep by on the monitor. He leaned forward and pointed. “That's the kids! There!” And sure enough, it was the two boys Cas had met, walking towards the mall.

Frank irritably slapped his hand away. 

“Wait, can't you enlarge the frames?”

Frank sighed. “What do you think this is, CSI? It's crappy, out of focus security cam footage. But here, let me go forward a few frames.” 

Dean, Benny and Sam were now crowded around Frank's computer. “Wait, what is that?” asked Sam.

“That's the RomanNewsNetwork van,” said Benny. 

“Did it just let off the kids and drive away?” asked Dean. They all peered at the monitor in the dim room. The van pulled up to the curb and stopped, the two children began walking past, and then the van pulled on. Unfortunately, the point of view was from the wrong side to see the door opening.

“Did it drop them off or not?” asked Dean.

“Well of course it did!” said Benny. “Those guys are shady as fuck!”

“But is it enough?” Dean asked Sam. 

Sam held up his hand and Charlie passed him the ball, nearly knocking down a high stack of electronics that Frank lunged over to protect – Dean had never seen him move so fast. “Does he have to do that?” Frank complained, pointing to Sam dribbling the ball.

“Helps him think those deep, Moose-y thoughts,” said Dean. “Sammy, what do you think? I wanna go through that van!”

Sam bounced thoughtfully. “I just don't think it's enough Dean. And there's the additional problem that it's the news media.”

“I wouldn't call RNN no 'news network,'” Benny grumbled.

“Be that as it may, we don't want government to be seen as suppressing press freedom.”

“Make a copy for us, Frank,” said Dean. Frank grabbed a flash drive and started to copy the file.

“Are you gonna show them the ghost?” Charlie piped up.

“No, I'm not gonna show them the ghost,” groused Frank. “What?” Suddenly, Dean, Benny and Sam were at attention. Sam even ceased dribbling the basketball. The room was silent. Charlie leapt up and gleefully reached over Frank to grab the computer mouse. She began to narrate excitedly.

“I was double checking this footage of Ben Braeden dancing around in the store. Remember you couldn't see who was outside? I wondered if maybe there was a reflection we could use, you know 'cause there's all this shiny kitchenware? So I closed in on some of the surroundings, cleaned it up a little bit, and look here....” She started off with the little clip of security cam video they'd seen before, with Ben standing at the threshold of a shop, appearing to look out at someone just beyond the camera's eye. Dean once again instinctually craned his neck, trying to look around the corner – of course to no avail.

Charlie enlarged the image and veered over beside Ben, where a mirror was hanging on the wall. “Well, that's the wrong direction,” said Benny immediately. “If he's lookin' at someone, they're off to his right.”

“That's what I told her,” said Frank. Sam passed him the basketball, and he bounced it a couple times in a desultory manner.

“But look!” said Charlie, and Dean peered at the screen. A misty image appeared in the mirror, almost seeming to be trick of the light. But in a couple frames, it resolved to a face.

Dean stood up. “Justin Fogler! That's Justin Fogler.”

“The dead kid?” asked Benny quietly. 

“It doesn't make any sense,” said Frank. “It's probably some kid goofing around. Or some kind of artifact.” He leaned over and fought Charlie for the mouse for a long minute.

“You sure Dean?” Sam asked. 

Dean nodded. “Charlie, put that part on the flash drive too.” 

Frank scanned their faces. “Hang on, now. If there's a conspiracy theory, I'm for it. The moon landing was a hoax, Oswald didn't kill JFK, and there's definitely something in Area 52. But … ghosts?”

Dean didn't reply. He held up a hand, and Charlie tossed him the flash drive. “We gotta go,” he muttered. He and Benny filed out of the room, Sam behind them, pausing only to steal the basketball from a very annoyed Frank.

“You're welcome!” Frank hollered after them.

“What do we do about this?” Dean whispered as they walked through the dim corridor towards the stairs. Sam dribbled the basketball in a thoughtful manner.

“Hey!” All three men turned guilty expressions towards Charlie, who had evidently pursued them out of the tech office. “OK, don't even! I know something is up, and you guys aren't telling.”

Benny put on his most formidable expresison. “ _Po-lice_ business, Celeste.”

Charlie winced at the sound of her hated first name, but she persisted, standing and crossing her arms. “There's been a lot of stuff going on lately that's breaking the weird-o-meter.”

“So what of it?” asked Dean, grabbing Benny's arm. Couldn't hurt to listen, he thought.

Charlie looked around with eager eyes. She took a deep breath, obviously wanted to supply her information before she was interrupted. “My girlfriend, Dorothy? She has some connections to folks in the carnival trade, and there's this local medium – now don't interrupt me, I know danged well that you guys talked to Rowena MacLeod – Oliver Pryce, and he's the real deal. Anyway, he's in contact with the spirits, and he swears he's been hearing from a boy named Justin.”

Sam bounced his basketball. “And he hasn't contacted us?” Dean asked.

Charlie snorted. “Would you contact the police with stuff like that?”

“Well no,” Dean admitted.

“Dorothy?” mused Sam. “What happened to Glenda? I liked her.”

Charlie smiled ruefully. “I liked her too. We were from different worlds.”

Dean and Benny exchanged a look. At length, Benny dug into his jacket and brought out a notepad and a pen. He clicked the pen and handed them over to Charlie. “Pryce's contact info. I assume he's got a telephone, and we don't have to use no crystal ball?”

Charlie ignored the dig, and eagerly grabbed the pad, scribbling down a phone number. “You're not gonna regret this! When we talk to him-”

“Whoa, hold on a minute, Nancy Drew!” barked Benny. “This ain't no amateur hour.”

“Since when is the Moose a cop?” she riposted.

“I am an officer of the court,” Sam pouted. 

“I'm more of a _po-lice_ than you are,” said Charlie.

“You need to stay in your weight class, short stuff,” grumbled Benny.

The argument probably would have gone on for some time, if Donna hadn't called down to them. “Dean! Benny! There you are. You get your butts up here on the double! It's Jody!”

“Jody Mills?” asked Dean, who was already bounding up the stairs, eager to get away from the brouhaha.

“She can't find Owen,” Donna confided to Dean. “She's at her wit's end!” Donna, Dean, Sam and Benny rushed to the squad room, where Jody Mills sat at Dean's desk, her eyes red-rimmed. Victor Henricksen was sitting beside her, speaking quietly. When they approached, their chief stood up. 

“Boys, what I'm gonna do, I'm gonna head to my office and shut the door now.” He nodded towards Jody, who attempted a smile, and then he turned and headed off at a brisk pace. It was out of their territory, but this was Jody. 

While Sam stood silently nearby, Dean leaned his butt against his desk and hovered over Jody. “Talk to me,” he said softly, while Benny offered up a box of Kleenex. 

Jody tore out a tissue and blew her nose. She stared into space, and tried to steel herself. “Owen,” she said at last. “He wanted to do Little League.” Then she seemed to run out of words.

Dean leaned nearer. “That's right. Baseball fan.” 

“But he's not on the local team any more? That's what you told us,” said Sam.

“Yeah, yeah. He's over in the next county. The next state! He got a ride over, and I caught a case. When I got there to pick him up, I was late, he wasn't there.”

“OK, good,” said Dean. “And you talked to the cops over there?”

“Assholes!” Jody barked. The men exchanged a look – you never heard Jody cursing. “They didn't even wanna call him missing! They kept asking me why he'd run away, being I'm a single mom and all, I'm obvious unfit!” She gritted her teeth. 

Dean put a hand on her arm. “Hey! Hey. We all know that's bullshit, Jody.” He wasn't sure how comforting this tack would be. If Owen hadn't run away, and it wasn't all some kind of misunderstanding, that meant he'd been taken. And Jody knew full well about the Fogler case. Dean promised himself he wasn't going to let that happen. 

“Can you tell us anything else?” Benny urged. “Any witnesses? You said it was a ball game, did the other boys or parents see anything?”

To Dean’s surprise and alarm, Jody put her head in her hands. The three men exchanged worried glances: it wasn’t right to see Sheriff Mills so desperate. Benny tried to press another Kleenex on her, but instead she sighed and waved it away. “I’m OK. I mean, I’m not OK, but I’ll tell you. It’s very weird, but there’s been a lot of weird. One of the parents had her little one run off for a time. She didn’t think much about it at the time, since he came running back just when she noticed he was missing. He’s a toddler, and you know what they’re like.”

“Can’t stop runnin’, sure,” said Benny.

“But he couldn’t stop talking about how Owen told him to run. So she brought him down, but of course, he was just a little one.”

“Yeah, too bad,” said Dean.

Jody held up a hand. “But that’s not all! Then news was on while the cop was talking to him. He ran over to the TV and started pointing to that RNN news chick, the horrible one, Joyce somebody?”

“Joyce Bicklebee,” grumbled Benny, who really didn’t like her.

“Wait, guys!” said Sam. “RNN!”

His pulse pounding, Dean slid off the desk and crouched in front of Jody, grabbing her arms, holding her gaze. “OK, Jody, I want you to go through this as carefully as you can. What exactly did he say? Do you know? This is really important.”

Jody looked around in confusion, but then steeled herself. “OK, they brought him in. The mom was … Mrs. Manners?” She shook her head. “Her older boy plays on Owen’s team. Uh, I can’t even remember her first name, but I think the little one is Kimmy. Yes, Kimmy. She brought him in and he babbled about Owen, but the guy couldn’t make sense of it. And then I guess Kimmy saw Joyce reporting on TV. He ran over, slapped the screen and said, ‘The white truck.’ That’s when they decided he was talking nonsense, that Joyce had kidnapped him. What?” Dean's fingers were digging into her arms. He forced himself to relax his grip.

“The truck? Like the news van?” asked Dean.

Jody paused, and then her eyes lit up. “Wait. You guys think he was describing the vehicle?”

Dean’s mind was racing. They needed to get into that van, one way or another. “Yeah. Let’s say, we have another lead. There’s something very fishy going on with RNN.”

“Wait. Not just any white van? He saw the RNN van?” Jody’s eyes went wide. And then her entire body tensed. “I’ll kill those son of a bitches,” she muttered, her voice low. “If they touch a hair on his head-”

“Jody, listen to me. What you’re gonna do, you’re gonna hang fire on this for a while, OK? I know how you must be feeling, but let us work the case. And we’ll call you if we get anything. Anything! Listen to me, these guys are really dangerous. More than you can know.”

“I’m dangerous.” And, indeed, there was murder in Jody’s eyes.

“We know you are, girl,” said Benny. “But you caught us on the way to the judge. Ain't that true, Moose?” 

Sam nodded. “We’ll get that van, Jody,” put in Sam.

“And I will personally tear that sucker apart, inch by inch,” Dean promised. 

Donna came bustling back. “I gotcha some tea, dear,” she told Jody, handing her a mug. 

Jody nodded sadly. “You got anything to put in it?” Dean glanced at Benny, who looked around and then pulled a silver flask out of his desk and handed over to Dean who handed it to Jody. Jody gave herself a generous shot. 

“You could stay with me in town until we hear something,” Donna offered. 

Dean tossed the flask back to Benny, who stuck it in a jacket pocket. “Let's go tear Judge Singer away from his _Corazon de Azul_ ,” he said, as he and Sam made for the door.

“Can you talk for a minute, partner?” Benny asked, grabbing Dean's arm. 

Dean tossed the flash drive over to Sam, who caught it one-handed.. Sam held it up with a grin and then sprinted out the door, bouncing that damn basketball.

“Your brother is one eccentric individual,” stated Benny, watching him go.

“That's what you wanted to discuss? The dribble drive?”

“No,” Benny chuckled, but then he grew serious. “Look, I'm just tryin' to keep my head in the game, like they say. Now, I know you tend to see every missin' kid these days in shades of the Fogler case, but it don't seem to fit the pattern. The Fogler boy, he was pretty small, and the DeAngelo boy was barely out of diapers, and Ben Braeden is three. But Sheriff Mills' boy had already graduated from playing T-ball.”

“I don't think they were after Owen,” said Dean. “But you heard Jody: the only witness was another toddler.”

Benny scratched his beard, considering it. “You're thinkin' Kimmy was the target?”

“I've known Owen Mills since he was a baby. And I've known Jody since I can remember.”

Benny snapped his fingers. “The boy stepped in!” 

“Yeah. I didn't wanna tell Jody, I didn't want to get her even more upset.” Benny nodded. Neither of them had to say it, but if the kidnappers had no interest in Owen, then his prospects for survival in their hands had just gotten much lower. 

“We gotta take a look in that van,” Benny said.

Dean had an idea. “Benny, do me a solid. Go over and help my brother round up Judge Singer. I'm gonna go run an errand. I'll meet you there.”

“Where are you goin'?” asked Benny, but Dean was already running towards the parking lot. 

“I'm gonna get a head in the game,” said Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

Owen blinked awake. He had a terrible headache, and he couldn't really see well. He moaned and, with some effort, sat up and looked around. He was lying on a twin bed, but it wasn't his own bed, and this definitely wasn't his own room.

Memories of what had just happened came flooding back to him. He needed to get out of here! He swung his feet around to the floor. The room was spinning a little, but he managed to stand up. 

Then he tried to take a step, and somehow missed the floor. 

He came down with a thump. He sat for a while, feeling around to the back of his head. There was a large lump there. Someone had smacked him, but good! He remembered Ricky and Tommy, and a big, white news van.

“Hello!”

Owen jerked. There was now a little kid, squatting in front of him, hands on chubby knees, but smiling away. “Uh, hi?” Owen tried. Even speaking hurt his head. He moaned again and rubbed his head.

“Owie?” asked the kid, pale blue eyes wide.

“Yeah. Owie,” said Owen. To his surprise, the kid leaned forward and stuck out his hand to touch Owen's forehead.

Owen felt a jolt, like static electricity.

Better then his head cleared, and his headache vanished. 

“Good?” asked the little kid.

OK, this was really weird. Owen rubbed his head again – the bump had vanished. “Uh, yeah, better,” he told the kid. Now that his vision had cleared, the face seemed familiar. He thought about it. “Hey, are you Justin?” he asked. He remembered the picture of the missing kid on his mom's desk at work.

“Naw! Not Dustin. Affie!” the kid volunteered. 

“Um, Alfie?”

“Uh-huh. Dustin is dere.” Owen turned as Alfie pointed to the corner of the room, where there was nothing in particular, just some LEGO bricks. 

“Uh, OK. I'm Owen.” 

“Owen-Owen!” Alfie repeated happily. 

“Hey, he's up!” someone called from the door. It was Tommy, the big kid with the scar on his forehead, yelling at someone down the hall. Owen drew back, pushing Alfie in back of him. 

“Tommy, what the hell?” asked Owen. It wasn't good to curse, even though his mom did sometimes, but Owen figured this situation called for it.

“Shut up,” warned Tommy. He strode into the room, big and confident.

Before Owen could stop him, little Alfie ran out towards Tommy. “You got owie!” he called, reaching out his hand.

Owen almost snorted. Yeah, something was definitely wrong with Tommy. To his surprise, Tommy drew back. “Stay away from me!” he yelled, ducking out of Alfie's way. Alfie paused, seeming puzzled by what the bigger kid was doing. 

Ricky appeared in the doorway, glaring at Owen. “You ruined everything!” he sneered at Owen.

“You hit me on the head and dragged me here! You're a … big butt!” Owen shot back. 

“Alfie wants to zap me!” Tommy squealed, as Alfie lunged towards him. The bigger boy hid behind Ricky.

“Quit acting like a baby, Tommy,” Ricky scolded.

“Richard Roman!” came a cold voice. Was Dick Roman here too? This was getting insane!

Owen recognized the woman's face – hadn't he seen her on the news?

“What is it, Susan?” sighed Ricky.

“Stay away from this room,” Susan ordered. “You heard what your father told you.”

“But I need another one, Susan!” Ricky whined. “Daddy said I can have one.”

“Look what you did to your other pet!” Susan sniffed. “We got you that one,” she said, pointing to Alfie. “Two is too many to keep!” She sounded like she was talking about puppies. But Owen guessed she was talking about kids. 

“You can't _hurt_ Alfie! He's a freak!” Ricky yelled.

Alfie, recognizing his name, feinted towards at Ricky. Ricky turned pale and leapt back, emitting a frightful high-pitched scream.

“Now who's a baby?” taunted Tommy, but one glare from Ricky wiped the smile off his face.

“Out of here, now!” ordered Susan, and this time Ricky and Tommy took off.

Susan began to shut the door. “Wait!” said Owen.

“Keep in here and stay quiet,” Susan ordered, and then she slammed the door shut. Owen heard the lock click into place. He waited at the door until her footsteps quieted and then tried the doorknob. Locked. 

With Alfie following him around, he tried the windows, which were both locked and barred. Then he went into the small connected bathroom – that had a small window, which was of course, locked. But this one at least had no bars. He could get up to it by standing on the toilet. Standing up on tiptoe, he peered around. There was a tree close enough to climb. He stood and watched for a while. Now would be a bad time - there were men outside.

“We need to get out of here,” he said. He turned around, but his little shadow was no longer in the bathroom. “Alfie?”

Alfie's face appeared in the doorway. “Dustin want to pway!” he said, and then darted away.

“Justin?” asked Owen, who was now very confused. He sighed, and noticed with a start that he could see his own breath.


	15. Chapter 15

Bobby was squinting at the computer monitor through half glasses. He frowned over them. “And you think … this is a ghost? Have both of you boys gone completely loco?”

Sam bravely attempted to keep his face neutral. Bobby had been in a terrible mood: it seemed that Maria Helena, the tempestuous heroine of _Corazon de Azul_ , had recently started to flirt with Joaquin, the awful dude with the pony tail, instead of Marco, A/K/A, the awesome Eye Patch Guy, who was _obviously_ her true love. (Well, in Bobby's opinion – Sam would really rather watch college basketball than a Spanish-language soap opera, but he seemed to be the only one in town who felt that way.)

Bobby appeared to be more than a little skeptical about issuing a warrant based on the footage of the kids and the news van, so Sam had tried to stall until Dean and Benny arrived. But then Benny had come along without Dean, and Sam had been forced to stall some more. This was not improving Bobby's irascible mood.

Finally, just when Sam thought Bobby was about to kick them all out of his office (perhaps quite literally – he was wearing his steel-toed boots today), Dean knocked on the door and, without waiting for a reply, strode in, accompanied by Castiel, who was carrying a violin case.

“Well if it ain't Grand Central Station today!” Bobby fumed. “You gonna tell me what the hell your plus one is doin' here, Dean? Gonna play me a concerto?” 

Dean pointed to Cas. “He isn't my plus one. He's my boyfriend.” Cas beamed.

“Yeah, congratulations. What the hell does this have to do with this damn search warrant?” 

“Hang on,” said Dean, who reached over to clear a space on Bobby's cluttered desk by rather unceremoniously sweeping a large stack of papers onto the floor. 

“Have you lost your mind?” Bobby asked. Ignoring Judge Singer, Dean beckoned to Cas, who squatted down and carefully set the violin case on the floor. He unlatched it, reached inside and drew out a human head.

He set what was left of Edgar Allen in the newly cleared spot on Bobby's desk.

Edgar winked at Bobby.

“Jesus Mary Joseph,” said Bobby, who began frantically fumbling at a desk drawer.

“Does this mean I get my body back?” grumped Edgar.

“No,” said Cas.

Bobby had pulled out a revolver and pointed it at his new guest. “Stay back!” he warned Edgar's head.

“I'm not going anywhere. Duh,” said Edgar. (Even removed from his body he was kind of a jerk.)

“Bobby, this is what’s left of Edgar, Dick Roman’s right hand man,” Dean explained.

“Lacking in the right hand department,” Edgar supplied.

Bobby set down his gun, and leaned back. He glared at Sam, Dean, Benny and Cas in turn. “All right, you boys better explain yourselves. And now.”

Dean tried to catch him up as best he could, Benny and Sam joining in when they could: how Sam had gone to the Murder house and found Edgar in his Leviathan form, how they couldn't stop him until Gadreel had intervened. Dean told about the trip to the Bitterroot, before Roman had walled off his compound, and his strange encounter with what he believed was the ghost of Justin Fogler. He told Bobby about Benny's party, Jess's abrupt disappearance, and finally he told the judge about the strange encounter at the Mystery Spot mine, where even a disbelieving Benny found himself chasing after angry spirits.

“That was pretty entertaining. I'd give it an 8,” said Edgar.

“Will you just keep quiet?” grumped Bobby. He turned to Dean. “Well, that's the biggest crock of bull durham I ever did hear. If you hadn't brang in your friend here, I would've had you all committed. But seein' as I can't deny what's sittin' before my eyes, and that I can't for the life of me see you makin' up such a load of fertilizer, Dean, what I'll do is: I'll give you your search warrant for that Roman News van. But I want you to swear to me that from now on, anything out of the ordinary happens to any of you, you get your asses right down here and fill me in. Now,” he added, rising from behind his desk and going over to a large old armoire that was pressed against the wall, “you scat, it’s time for my stories.” He opened the armoire to reveal an ancient RCA TV set, which he clicked on. The set hummed, and at length the screen lit up with an array of cascading horizontal lines. Bobby cursed and whacked the television with the flat of his hand. 

The picture resolved to an image of Joyce Bicklebee, standing in front of her RomanNewsNetwork van, declaiming about something. 

“Speak of the devil,” grumbled Bobby. “Where’s my damned _Corazon de Azul_?”

Benny hunched over closer to the set. “I recognize that stretch o’ road.”

“Turn it up, will you, Bobby?” asked Dean.

“…Word is the superstorm will skirt the Greater Bitterroot area, but the National Weather Board has issued flood warnings for low lying areas. Sounds like a great time to get out those waterwings!”

“That woman is one complete knucklehead,” growled Bobby.

A splash underneath Joyce said _“LIVE!”_ “C’mon, Benny, let’s get out there and see if we can nab her,” said Dean.

“But what about my damned show?” Bobby groused.

Cas looked up from where he had been depositing Edgar’s head back into Raphael’s violin case. “My brother has direct access to videotapes of that show. If you’d like, I could ask him to loan you the most recent episodes.”

Dean had to grin – Bobby’s expression looked like Christmas had just come on his birthday.

“I wanna go with you guys!” Sam told Dean.

Benny shot a skeptical glance at Dean. “Tell ya what,” Dean told Sam as he took a card from his jacket. “This Oliver Pryce guy?”

“Charlie’s friend?” asked Sam, his face gone sour at the diminishing prospect of playing Nancy Drew.

“Hey, look, usually I’d think she’s nuts.”

“Girl _is_ nuts,” supplied Benny.

Dean flashed his partner a scolding look. “But given what happened to me the other day in the Bitterroot? I think it’s worth checking out.” Sam looked like he was going to start whining again, so Dean held up a hand. “Take Cas. And be sure to ask the dude what exactly he thinks he’s been hearing from Justin, OK?” And then he quick-marched Benny out of the judge’s chambers before Sam could find another objection.

“Got a tagalong little brother huh?” laughed Benny, who probably couldn’t resist rubbing it in.

Dean shook his head. “Let’s try to get to Joyce before she gets the idea to pick up any more kids!”

 

Owen Mills sat on the wooden floor, huddled in a blanket, playing with Tinkertoys. 

It was a bit too “little kid” for him, but his two companions were content, so he was cool with it. They were making cars. They were both younger than he. Well, Alfie was younger. Justin was a little hard to read. It was weird because they looked alike – both maybe three years old, with light hair and bright blue eyes. But they were a contrast in temperaments. Alfie was sweet and open and affectionate, even in this weird environment. And Justin was... Well.

The blanket was because Justin was cold. Or rather, it got cold when you were around Justin. It was hard to explain. He seemed to suck all the heat out of the air around him. Otherwise, he was an OK little guy. 

Alfie was actually pretty cool. Owen was showing how to put together a Tinkertoy car so the wheel turned. Alfie watched with rapt attention, and then imitated Owen's every move. He would have been cool to have as a little brother. It was tough sometimes, being an only, and then there was just him and his mom. But Alfie liked hiding in the blanket with him, and delighted in his LEGO and Tinkertoy creations. 

At the least, it helped Owen distract himself from his current situation, which was, to be blunt, pretty shitty, even if his mom wouldn't have like him using that word. He'd gone through a day and a night now. He was trapped in a little room with a locked door, and there always seemed to be guys outside wandering around. They didn't bother him much: they just opened the door to give them meals. But Owen knew he'd been kidnapped, and as a sheriff's son he knew what tended to happen to kids who were gone too long: they never came back.

“Oopsie!” said Alfie. Justin had just dropped one of his little wheel dealos, and it was rolling across the floor. Owen instinctively reached out to catch it, forgetting the other weird thing about Justin's toys: he couldn't touch them, his hand went right through. They looked pretty real, but somehow, they were like a hologram or something.

Alfie giggled and ran after it, stopping it with his foot. Alfie could play with Jusin's toys, but he was usually respectful, and let Justin have them. He picked up the wheel and ran it back to Justin, then squatted down to watch with rapt attention as Justin snapped together the toy he had been working on. He turned a crank, and a lot of wheels turned. Pretty cool! Both Owen and Alfie watched for a moment as the whirligig contraption spun round and round.

And then it stopped. Justin got to his feet, faraway look in his eyes. “I'm bein' called.” 

“Who's callin'?” Owen had to ask, even though he knew he wouldn't understand.

Justin looked over at Owen, as if he'd just remembered him. “I'll tell 'em about you. I gotta go.” And then, just like he said, he fizzled out and wasn't there any more. 

Owen went over and waved his hand in the space where Justin had been. Yeah, he was all gone. 

The door flew open. That was passing curious – it didn't seem like it was meal time yet. Susan was standing there. He didn't like Susan – not one bit.

“You're coming with me,” she told Owen. “Shoes off.”

“What?”

“Shoes off!” She stood there glaring at him, like she was thinking about eating him or something. He didn't like the look in her eye. Obediently, he hopped up on the bed and untied his tennis shoes. Alfie hopped up next to him and stared. 

“Is Alfie coming?”

“No.” Susan might have shuddered. Owen wasn't really sure why, but most everybody seemed a little scared of Alfie. That's part of why he liked Alfie! Even though he was also a great kid. 

“You stay here, I'll be right back,” Owen told him, now aware with Justin away, he'd be all alone for a while. 

“OK!” Alfie smiled, and those pale blue eyes shown. “Pway WEGO?”

“Yep, I'll come back and we'll play LEGO.” Alfie really loved stacking blocks. They didn't have the kinds that little kids used, with the big blocks, but he seemed to enjoy them anyway. 

He hopped off the bed and, with some trepidation, followed Susan into the hallway. This was going to be his first opportunity to see the house, so he told himself to calm down and think about what his mom would do. She would make an assessment of the situation: that was sure. So he tried to be attentive. They were walking down a hallway. It looked like the second floor of any normal house. They passed a landing on the way, and he could see the downstairs, which also looked pretty normal. He wondered about running down and getting out that way, but he didn't know whether there would be guys outside. He cursed himself that he hadn't peeped out the window recently. 

They came to the end of the hallway. Susan stopped and slipped out of her high heeled shoes. There were two men stationed on either side of the doorway, and both of them were in stocking feet too. Owen curled his toes in his socks, noticing that he had a hole in the toe of one of them. This was so weird!

Susan nodded to the men, who stepped aside, and then she opened the door. It looked like this room was supposed to be the master bedroom, only it was set up like somebody's office. There was a familiar-looking man sitting behind a desk. Besides that, the room was pretty bare. There were a couple of wall hangings, but they weren't really framed pictures, they were just really big symbols. Maybe it was modern art? And then there were a couple of mats on the floor, like you'd see in judo practice. 

The man stood up. He smiled at Owen, a smile he'd be seeing in his nightmares for many, many years. “Hello, Owen. Please, sit down.” He sat down cross-legged on one of the mats. Owen noticed he was in his stocking feet too. Owen sat down across from him, fiddling nervously at the hole in his sock. 

“I suppose you know who I am,” said the man, who wouldn't stop smiling.

“No.” Owen pulled at the fraying material near his toe.

“Why, I'm Dick Roman!”

Owen peered up at Dick Roman. “Can I go now, Mr. Roman?”

The smile intensified fractionally. “I was hoping you could stay here a few days.”

“Then you're kidnapping me?”

“Well, I'd prefer to see it as you staying as your special guest.”

“Then I'm free to go?”

“Have you ever been told you have a rather one track mind? You really need to see the positive side.”

Owen dug in. “Are you kidnapping me? Or am I free to go?”

Dick Roman's smile was stretched about as tight as it would go. Owen figured he probably should shut up, but he just couldn't help it. 

“Daddy!” To Owen's alarm, Ricky chose that moment to come running into the room. Owen noticed he was still wearing his shoes.

So did Dick Roman. “Ricky, what have I told you about wearing your shoes in here?” Mr. Roman asked him in a stern voice that Ricky completely ignored.

“Daddy, why are you talking to him?” Ricky whined. Dick Roman grabbed his son and hauled him roughly to his side. “You need to get rid of him.”

“Ricky, you know you weren't supposed to get another one,” Mr. Roman chided in a soothing voice, though it looked like his grip on Ricky's arm was vise-like. He turned to Owen. “You see, Owen, my son is a growing boy. Much like you need to eat your vegetables, he needs to watch his diet very carefully, so he can grow big and strong.”

“He's all wrong! I can't use him,” Ricky told his father. “I had a good one, but he messed it all up.” Ricky lunged forward, restrained by his father's grip, and spat on Owen. “You asshole!”

Owen shot to his feet, seething. His mom would have warned him to keep his temper, but he really needed to punch Ricky Roman, but good, and that's just what he did. Ricky fell on his butt and began to cry like a big baby. “Daddy!” Owen noted with pride that he had bloodied Ricky's stupid nose. 

“Owie!” came Alfie's little voice. Owen blinked. Had Alfie gotten out of the room? But how? He was toddling right for Ricky, who stopped rubbing his bloody nose to shriek the girliest scream ever, and then dove for cover behind his dad. To Owen's surprise, Dick Roman too stepped back, and his smile, at last, slipped from his face. “Susan!” he hollered, his face gone pale. 

Susan was at the door, so quickly that she hadn't doffed her high heels. “How did you get out?” she asked Alfie.

“Get them out! Get them both out!” Dick ordered.

“Come on, Alfie,” said Owen, holding out a hand. Alfie looked sweetly puzzled for a moment, and then gladly took Owen's hand and, following Susan, toddled along with him, back out the door.

“I'll get you!” Ricky shouted after them, his voice now strained through his swelling nose. “You asshole!”

“Whatever,” grumbled Owen, gripping Alfie's hand. So everybody here was scared of a happy toddler? This place was weird as that F word his mom told him to never, ever say.

 

“News of the Weird!” laughed Benny. He looked over at Dean, who had been putting all his concentration into driving the car. “You really think we'll find anything in that van? Seems like another dead end.”

Dean gripped the wheel and stared ahead. “I know where they're keeping him – it's at that compound they've made for themselves in the Bitterroot. I sat in that room, Benny.” He glanced at his partner. “We just need something to let us get in there officially. That's all. I know Bobby is on our side.”

“And if not?” 

Dean knew exactly what he'd do, if he had to. But he wasn't sure how much he wanted to involve his partner. Benny had a family. “This isn't just any kid, Benny. This is Owen Mills.”

Benny raised an eyebrow. “You're gonna get there, one way or another.”

“We're not having this conversation.”

“Mm-hmm. Not officially. But if you do this and don't clue me in one way or another, there will be hell to pay.”

Dean mustered a smile. “Thanks, Benny.”

“In this together, brother,” said Benny. “Hey, ain't that Little Miss Newslady up ahead?” 

Dean spotted it too: the RomanNewsNetwork van was still parked in the same spot. “Maybe this will be easier than we thought?”

Benny was grinning. “You know that ain't possible!”

Dean pulled the car in beside the van. Joyce Bicklebee herself looked up at him expectantly. “Miss Bicklebee?” Benny called. “We just got a couple questions, if you don't mind, ma'am?”

Joyce smiled a TV newsperson smile. Then the van roared to life, she leapt in, and they were speeding off. 

“Guess they _did_ mind,” cracked Benny.

“In the car!” Dean yelled. And the chase was on. 

“We're chasin' a TV news van? Ain't this a little silly?” Benny asked as Dean took one corner and then another at high speed.

“Call in! Tell them to be on the lookout,” Dean told him.

“They ain't gonna take it well,” said Benny, grabbing the dash as Dean made another crazy turn. “Hey, Donna?” he asked the radio.

_“It's Jo. I'm manning the desk while Donna's on her break.”_

“This is unit 38, and we're currently in pursuit of a 1987 Ford Econoline van, license plate.... Well, I can't see the plates, but it's the RomanNewsNetwork van.”

There was a pause at the other end. _“Wait, you're chasing a TV news van?”_

“Yeah, we're chasin' a TV news van. Can you tell everybody-”

_“But it's a news van!”_ Jo protested. _“We can see it on TV!”_

“I know that! You tell folks to be on the lookout.”

_“What's goin' on?”_ came Donna's voice in the background.

_“They're chasin' a TV news van.”_

_“A TV news van?”_

_“Yeah!”_

_“Is it on TV yet?”_

“No, it ain't on TV!” Benny hollered, just as Dean tried to follow the van around a ridiculous hairpin turn. 

“I don't understand it, what kind of engine does that piece of shit have?” Dean fumed.

“What kinda engine does your piece o' shit have?” asked Benny.

They hurtled down the street, when once again the van made a sharp turn into a narrow alleyway. Dean burned rubber to follow, but then slammed the brakes.

“How the fuck did they get up here?” Benny asked, as the alley was literally too narrow for Dean's car to make it. 

Dean was out the door, running after the van. “Take the wheel! Meet me around the other side!” he shouted back at Benny, pulling his gun and picking up his pace. He heard Benny rev the car behind him and take off, but continued running full speed after the van. He was about halfway down the narrow alleyway when it made the other side. He halted, took aim, and fired a couple shots at the tires. The van rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Dean tore off again after it, running as fast as he could. He stumbled to a halt at the other end of the alley, just as Benny pulled up in the Impala. He scanned around everywhere, but the van was nowhere in sight.

Benny had already climbed out of the car. “Where the hell did it go?”

Dean bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. “I don't know. It turned right, going towards you.”

“I didn't see it. There ain't no other outlet!”

“What the hell!” They both looked around, completely mystified. 

Benny leaned against Dean's car. “Well, you gotta admit, ain't the strangest thing that's been happening lately.”

Dean shook his head, furious. He needed to get that van! He looked up to the sound of loud rap music, and saw a gold Lincoln Continental rumble on by, sagging on it's incredibly loose suspension. 

“You got money for a car, why you buy that piece of shit?” Benny asked. “No accountin' for taste.”

Dean stared at the car as it passed by. There was something _off_ about it, but he couldn't put his finger on it. 

 

Sam stalked out into the intersection, feeling every bit the tagalong little brother rather than a perfectly grown up district attorney. _“Sure, Sammy, you go off with the weird guy and keep busy while the adults do police work!”_ he thought to himself. Not that Cas was a bad guy, but he was, without a doubt, weird.

Sam stopped short, noticing that Cas was no longer at his side. He looked back. Cas was still perched on the sidewalk across the street from Oliver Pryce's house.

“Sam. You are jaywalking,” Cas informed him.

Sam waved a long arm of the law. “Yeah? Well, I'm Sam Fucking Winchester!”

“I don't know what your appellation has to do with disobeying traffic laws,” Cas scolded.

“Cas. C'mon!” Sam kept walking diagonally across the deserted street and, after a beat, Cas jogged up to accompany him. Pryce lived in a modest house on a nondescript street in a perfectly anonymous part of town. It was almost as if he wanted to disappear. 

“Shall we kick down the door, Sam?” 

Sam, who was about to knock, turned to Cas. “I thought you were nervous about jaywalking, Cas?”

“We are in earnest, Sam!”

Sam shook his head and was just about to knock when opened so suddenly he nearly ended up rapping a middle-aged dude right in the nose. He backed off a step. “Uh, yeah. Hello, I'm Sam-”

“Winchester,” said the guy. “Yeah, I know.” He pointed to his own forehead, and turned to Cas. “You, I got no idea. All I'm gettin' is colors.”

“Mr. Pryce?”

“Yeah, but I don't do that mind readin' crap any more.” 

“Sir,” Sam pleaded, “my brother is a police officer, and he's been working on the Justin-”

“Fogler case,” Pryce interrupted. This was definitely getting annoying. “Shit, why didn't you think that before. Come on in. You too!” he told Cas, “but I'm keepin' an eye on you!” He led them into his house, which was anything but anonymous inside – the walls were covered with circus-style posters, advertising Pryce's amazing mind-reading feats. “Like I said,” Pryce related as the led them through memorabilia-stuffed house into a small dining room, “I don't do the mind-reading stuff any more, but do contact the spirit world now and again, just to keep my hand in, dontcha know.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Sam, who was looking around at all the candles and funny sigils painted on the walls. There was a circular table in the middle of the floor, and it was sitting right in the middle of a big pentagram inside a circle, with a whole bunch of other squiggly stuff painted around it. 

Pryce saw where Sam was looking (and probably listened in on his thoughts, Sam imagined) and said, “Yeah, you gotta steer clear of demons – they're real assholes!” He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, and Castiel did the same, and then both of them looked up expectantly at Sam. 

“Uh, demons?” asked Sam.

“Assholes,” Pryce repeated.

“They are to be avoided, Sam, but Mr. Pryce's warding ought to keep them at bay,” Cas informed him.

Sam didn't like the sound of that, but decided perhaps he ought to sit down so they could get this business - whatever it was - over with quickly, so he could go back to the actual case. Yeah, Pryce acted like he could read his thoughts, but maybe he was just some carnival pro who was good at faking it? 

Sam took a chair while Pryce lit a few candles. “Now, I usually tell people to keep holding hands. I'm gonna make an exception here. There's been some weird shit going on in the astral plane lately.”

“You could say that again,” Sam sighed.

“If you two sense anything out of the ordinary – and believe you me, you'll know – then I want you to drop hands immediately. And if I'm still in commune with a spirit, snap me out of it, OK?”

Cas nodded. “Yeah, sure,” said Sam. Communing with a spirit? Was he kidding? Sam took hold of Cas and Pryce's hands, but steeled himself for a really good bit of acting. This was another dead end for sure.

Pryce closed his eyes. “Justin? Justin, it's Oliver Pryce. I have some friends, here, Sam and...” He popped open an eye to glare at Cas. “What was your name again, color guy?”

“Castiel.”

“Sam and Castiel are here, and wanna talk. Cas is a little weird, but Sam seems OK.”

Sam scowled, but Cas didn't appear offended in the least. In fact, Cas was now peering around the room, as if he could actually see the spirits. He was a little clueless: he probably thought this was all on the up and up, poor guy.

All of a sudden, in the manner of cheap carnival tricks, Oliver's expression changed. He stared at Sam. “You're Sam?” he inquired, his face suddenly dead serious. It was a little weird – Sam had expected him to start mimicking a kid.

“Yeah, I'm Sam Winchester. Uh, my brother, Dean, talked to you?”

“Dean!” Oliver's expression warmed up, if only a bit. “Dean said he'd come back.”

“Yeah, he was really worried about you.”

“Dean needs to come. Owen is here. He shouldn't be here! It's dangerous.”

Sam was taken aback. When had he told Pryce about Owen? Maybe he'd heard it on the news? But he thought they weren't publicizing it. 

“Sam?”

Sam came to attention. “Yeah, uh, Justin?”

“Dean's gotta to come back. Quick. Alfie is safe, but Owen isn't. Please tell him. Tell Dean! I'm doing all I can, but I can't do very much. I'm a ghost! It really sucks.”

“Justin,” said Cas softly. Sam jumped – he had honestly forgotten Cas was even here. “Justin, can you tell me where you are? Are you in Bitterroot?”

“Yeah. I'm in the house.” 

“What does your room look like?” Cas asked.

“Uh, there's LEGO and tinkertoys. And a bed. And cowboys on the wall.” 

Cowboys? OK, this was definitely getting weird.

“I can't go out,” Justin/Oliver continued. “I've tried! I mean, there's toys to play with, and Owen and Alfie, but it's boring. But come get Owen, OK?”

“I'll tell Dean,” Sam assured him. 

Justin looked up. “Oh. Oh! Gotta go!” Oliver's head lolled to the side, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

“Justin?” asked Sam.

Sam scooted back as the candles suddenly flared up, roiling red and orange. Oliver's eyes snapped open. They were red as coals.

“Oh!” Sam dropped Oliver's hand. “Oliver! Oliver, hey! This is not cool.”

Oliver stood. The candles flared and sniffed out. With one hand, Oliver picked up the table and flung it against the wall.

Sam was on his feet. “Oliver!” shouted Sam. “Oliver! Snap out of it!” He stepped towards Oliver, but the medium stuck out a hand, and Sam found himself flung by some invisible force. He slammed into the wall and sunk down, yelling in pain at his smashed shoulder. The room grew dark, and Sam heard a windstorm kicking up outside the window. 

“Cas! Oliver!”

“Sam!” yelled Cas. “Cover your ears.”

Cowering on the floor Sam obeyed. Oliver tried the pushing trick on Cas, but it didn't seem to rattle him much. He stormed towards Pryce, grabbed him by the shoulders, and then shouted something at him. The windows cracked from the sound of his voice, the wind rushed, and then....

Silence. 

Sam took his hands from his ears, watching Pryce slump, unconscious, into Cas's arms. “Oliver!” he shouted. He sprang up, his shoulder throbbing, and ran over to Cas and Pryce. “Oliver! Wake up.”

Oliver blinked awake. Thankfully, his eyes had returned to normal. 

“Oliver! Mr. Pryce! Are you all right?”

Cas helped him shakily sit up. “Something.... Something evil is out there,” whispered Pryce, and Sam noticed with horror a red blood tear streaking down from Pryce's eye.

“We- We gotta get you to a hospital,” said Sam.

“No need.” Pryce waved his hands. “I'll be fine. I'll be fine.” He tried to get up, but collapsed back into Cas's arms. Cas responded by picking him up. Pryce wasn't a small man, but Cas didn't seem to have any problem with it.

“There will be no arguments,” Castiel told him. “You will accompany us to the hospital. Sam's wife is a physician there, and I believe you will receive attentive care.”

“Well,” said Pryce. “Yeah, OK.” He looked around. “Wow, you did a number on the windows. Boy howdy!”

Sam nodded. Castiel was full of surprises. He followed Cas as he carried Pryce out of the house.

 

Owen was helping Alfie put the finishing touches on his LEGO castle when he felt a sudden chill. He looked over at Justin, who appeared wide-eyed and frantic.

Owen got to his feet. Justin didn't show many moods, and he'd never seen him frightened before.

“There's something coming,” he said.

Alfie grabbed Owen's hand. “Somethin' bad?” asked Owen.

Justin nodded. “Somethin' real bad.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I think this is now the most comments I've ever gotten on any of my AO3 stuff, so many thanks to you folks, sure makes it a lot more fun to hear your thoughts as we go along!!! :D

“I tell ya, I'm just fine. Though I sure don't mind talkin' to a good lookin' lady doctor!” 

Jess cracked a grin at Sam. Sam, who had been standing in the exam room, blushed and said, “That's no lady, that's my fiancee.”

“Ooo,” said Oliver Pryce. “Well you done well for yourself, kiddo.” Jess raised a questioning eyebrow towards Sam, who shrugged, probably realizing that he still hadn't officially popped the question.

The door flew open. “Sam!” shouted Dean. 

Jess rolled her eyes. “Hey, I'm trying to do an exam here. Could we maybe cut this down to the important people: how about me and the patient?”

“Yeah, give us some alone time!” laughed Pryce as Jess hustled Sam and Dean and Cas out of her exam room and then firmly shut the door behind them. 

They stood awkwardly in the hallway for a long moment. As busy people pushed up and down the corridor, Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Donna told us you and Cas were in the emergency room, so I guess I jumped to conclusions.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, we're all right, and Cas saved the day with Pryce.” 

Cas smiled shyly. “I was glad to help, although I fear I may have caused some property damage to Mr. Pryce's residence.”

Dean frowned at Sam, who ignored his questioning look. “What about you, Dean? Did you get the news van?”

“Uh,” said Dean. “Guess the short answer is, no.” Sam smiled a bit smugly at this.

“You should have intercepted that van,” Cas told him. “It may contain important information!”

“I know Cas, believe me, I know.” Dean and Benny had, in fact, become something of a minor laughingstock around the station after the incident. It was probably part of the reason Dean had headed out to the hospital on such scanty information. “It was weird, though! They were going really fast. And then they went down this alley that was too narrow – no fucking idea how they did it. And then they pulled a disappearing act!”

“The alley was … too narrow?” asked Sam.

Dean cringed. He had just been over this precise point not only with Henricksen, but with half of the staff (thanks to blabbermouth Donna). “The alley was too narrow for the van. It was too narrow for my car! I chased them on foot, but they disappeared.”

“Aha,” said Cas. “They were almost definitely using some kind of spell or enchantment to conceal their movements.”

Dean blinked at Cas. “Uh, yeah, right.”

“So, uh, what do we do?” Sam asked Cas.

“Magical energy typically leaves a trace. I will consult with my brothers and get back to you.” And then, in the middle of the busy hallway, Cas swallowed himself up in a shadow and was gone.

Dean looked around, but it didn't seem anyone else had noticed. “I'll never get used to that.” He looked at Sam. “OK, so what about you? How did you end up in the ER?”

Sam put a worried hand through his hair. “I- I think Pryce is the real deal, Dean. I was skeptical at first. But we contacted Justin, or a spirit who said he's Justin. He says that Owen is there.”

“Shit! We've gotta get out there. Where is that fucking van?”

“But, Dean, the reason we're in the hospital? Oliver lost Justin, and something else got to him. It scared the shit out of us. I swear, his eyes started to burn! Like, really burn!”

“What happened?”

“Cas pulled him out of it somehow. Get this: he shouted at him. Loud! He shattered the dude's windows.”

“Cas can shatter windows?”

“Evidently.” Sam peered curiously at his brother. “You marking that down for further research?”

“Hey!” But Dean was still mulling over something. “The Pryce thing. Reminds me of someone. Let's check the desk to see if Rowena Macleod is still here.”

Sam followed Dean to the desk, and then, after a hushed conversation with one of the older nurses, up a couple of floors and down a hallway to a quiet room, far from the hustle and bustle downstairs in the ER.

Sam could hear the click and whirr of a ventilator even before he entered. There was a tiny, red-headed woman lying on the bed, surrounded by an impressive array of medical devices doing this and monitoring that. Her face, though partially obscured by the oxygen mask, was pale and pretty.

“It's the machines keeping her breathing,” came a lightly accented voice. Sam turned to see a skinny, dark-haired twenty-something slouched in a chair by the door. He had a bowler hat balanced on his knee. 

“Crowley,” said Dean, looking back and forth between the kid and the patient. “Geez, I'm sorry. I didn't know-”

“Then I am sorry to report, Detective Winchester, that she never woke up after the incident,” said Crowley. He began idly spinning the bowler hat on one finger. 

“Shit. That sucks.” Yeah, Dean definitely had a knack for dealing with people.

“The incident?” Sam prompted. 

“She was trying to help us out with the DeAngelo case,” Dean related. “Ya know, contact the, uh, _spirits_.” Sam could tell that even after all the weird incidents lately, Dean was still uncomfortable with the whole supernatural element. Dean stood at the side of the bed, searching her face. “She say anything else about it?”

“She may have muttered a few things,” Crowley told him. Sam got a shiver. He didn’t much like this Crowley person – something about him seemed scheming. 

“What kinds of things?” Sam asked, aware that he was now being as rude as his brother.

“About the Old Ones.” Crowley was now gazing at Sam, as if sizing him up. “You know, lying sleeping in the deep and all that. Though it seems at least one of the great wankers might waking up, given how he scrambled me mum’s brain.”

Sam took a deep breath and sat down next to Crowley. “We just came from a séance conducted by a man named Oliver Pryce.”

Crowley nodded and fingered his hat. “Psychic. I’ve heard tell of him.”

“He said something really big and bad was afoot, and whatever it was, it seemed like it got hold of him at the end of the session. His eyes started burning – I mean, they were glowing read, like hot coals. We managed to snap him out of it, but it was close.” 

Sam watched the wheels turning in Crowley’s mind. “That might explain the recent burglary.”

“Burglary?” asked Dean. “What burglary? Did you report it?”

Crowley didn’t reply directly, but made an expression like, _are you kidding?_ “It was some of mum’s junk, jewels of Xiurhn.”

“The jewels of … Zoo-which?”

“Xiurhn. You know, cursed jewelry, contains the souls of the unlucky. We have pots of that kind of ephemera. Not exactly a growing concern. But it was nicked right out of our back room.”

“You should file a police report,” Dean told him. 

Crowley’s reptilian yes flicked between Sam and Dean, and finally settled on Sam. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re the local prosecutor?”

“Yeah, district attorney,” Sam told him.

“My brother,” Dean added.

“Ah!” Crowley paused, his thumbs rubbing the brims of his derby hat. “The family business then. As you know, Detective Winchester, I’ve come across many unusual and interesting pieces as part of my business.”

“Mostly water pipes designed to look like Yoda,” snorted Dean.

Crowley arched an eyebrow. He stood, and put on his hat. “I may have run across a piece that would interest you and your brother. It’s quite … _unusual_. And according to what I’ve learned of its provenance, it may be prove useful.”

“What kind of piece?” asked Dean. His phone began to ring, so he pulled it out of his pocket.

“You know where to find me,” said Crowley, who nodded at Sam and darted out the door.

“Crowley?” But by the time Sam made it to the door, Crowley had disappeared. “Damn.”

Dean was deeply involved in his phone conversation. “They got it already? How? Oh, never mind, we’ll meet you there.” 

Sam returned to the room wearing a puzzled expression. “Crowley’s gone.”

“Yeah, well, gets my back up having to deal with that little creep. Burglary, my ass. We gotta get back to the station.” Dean had pocketed the phone and was already rushing down the corridor.

“Why?”

“Cas and Gabe found the news van. But there’s some complication.”

“What?”

“Dunno, but we’re gonna find out.”

 

As it turned out, the complication with the news van was that it wasn't exactly a news van.

Dean stood in the police station's garage and watched with no small amount of consternation as Cas and Gabe arrived in the world's most ugly-ass Lincoln Continental, swaying on the ridiculously soft suspension, the sound system blaring some awful rap music. 

“What a piece of shit,” Benny muttered, shaking his head. 

“Guys, where's the van?” asked Dean as Cas and Gabe emerged.

“This is the van,” said Gabe.

“Unless I miss my guess,” said Benny, “this here is the world's shittiest example of an early 1970s gas-guzzlin' mother of a motor vehicle. Ain't in no way, shape or form no Econoline van.”

“Well, that's where you're wrong,” said Gabriel. He pulled out an ancient-looking, leather-bound book and began to thumb through the weathered yellow pages.

“This vehicle is under a spell of concealment,” Cas explained. “Gabriel will now perform the appropriate counter-spell, and reveal its actual appearance.

“I'll believe it when I see it,” said Benny, crossing his arms and scowling at Gabriel.

“Believe it, buck-o!” said Gabriel, who had apparently happened upon the correct page. Holding the big volume in one arm, he waved his other hand and spoke some apparent gibberish, ending with a flourish and a cry of, “Bippity boppity boo!”

Donna happened upon them. “What's goin' on, fellas?” she inquired. 

There was a crackle of electricity. The crappy Lincoln Continental shimmered, and then reformed. The music, too, changed from a deep, throbbing bass to a tinkling rendition of, “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”

The vehicle was now an ice cream van, complete with large images of Popsicles painted on the side, and a rather frightening depiction of a happy cartoon clown on the front.

“Holy frack!” said Donna.

Benny remained unimpressed. “Wrong kinda van, Houdini.”

“Can somebody turn off this fucking music?” Dean pleaded. He attempted to pop open the hood.

Gabriel scowled and slammed his book shut. He turned it over and read the binding. “Dammit, this is the wrong volume. Cas, didn't I tell you to get the 1683 edition?” He held the book out towards his brother.

Castiel stared at it. “Gabriel, I am rather tired after rushing around after the various herbs you had me doing this morning.”

Gabriel harrumphed and continued holding out the book. “Cas. _1683_.”

At length, Castiel grabbed the book away from Gabriel, and as a jingling version of Mary Had a Little Lamb continued to play, disappeared into a shadow. 

“Can we at least get a Popsicle?” inquired Donna. 

Dean had now grabbed a crow bar and was still ineffectively attempting to open the van's hood. “Want me to get the shotgun?” Benny asked him.

Cas reappeared, now red-faced and puffing. Gabriel held out his hand, wiggling his fingers, and Cas handed over another large book. Gabe flipped through the cracked, yellowy pages and poked his finger on the relevant spell. “All right, here we go! Everybody, step back. You, with the crow bar!”

“If I have to hear one more chorus of _Mary Had a Little Lamb... _” Dean whined, but Gabe waved him back.__

__Gabe began to wave his hand and declaim more gibberish, this time ending with a dramatic cry of, “Abracadabra!”_ _

__Once again, the vehicle shimmied and shook, and then it reconfigured itself, finally, into the familiar shape of the RomanNewsNetwork van._ _

__Although, unfortunately, it was still playing, “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”_ _

__Dean rushed forward, popped the hood (which, fortunately for him, was much easier in this configuration) and yanked out a knot of wires. The tune, thankfully, was silenced._ _

__“And what happened to what's her name, Joyce Bumblebee?” asked Benny._ _

__“Let's just say, my brother is runnin' out of violin cases,” Gabe told him._ _

__“OK, let's take a look inside this puppy,” said Dean, yanking open the sliding side door._ _

__“I'd be careful there!' Gabe warned. Dean leaned over to look inside, but then overbalanced and emitted a surprised yelp. Benny, standing over his shoulder, suddenly yanked him back, and they both stared in wonder._ _

__Gabriel sidled over and peered in. “Yep, what I thought.”_ _

__“It looks like a bottomless pit in there!” said Dean._ _

__“Non-Euclidean geometry,” said Gabe._ _

__“What?”_ _

__Gabe shrugged. “It's bigger on the inside, noodle-head.”_ _

__Donna took a peek inside. “Holy Moses! That goes down a long way.” She looked back at Gabriel. “You suppose there's still ice cream down there somewhere?”_ _

__“What do we do now?” Dean asked Gabe._ _

__“Fortunately, we got an abseiling expert in the family. Cas?”_ _

__Cas now glared. “Gabriel, it would be easy enough for Dean and his partner to drive over and fetch Gadreel.”_ _

__“C'mon, bro! We're under the gun, here. Chop chop!”_ _

__Cas rolled his eyes, but soon disappeared once again into a shadow. In a few moments, the shadow returned, and this time unveiled Gadreel, who Cas had presumably carried here._ _

__“We got a deep dive for ya, bro,” Gabriel told him._ _

__Gadreel smiled and sauntered over to the open door of the van. “Got it,” he said, flourishing two heavy duty stunt yoyos. Anchoring them around the door handle with a deft flick of the wrist, he grabbed hold of the strings, backed up towards the van, and jumped in. Several people rushed to the door to watch him go down. Dean blinked and stumbled away, overcome by vertigo._ _

__“Toss up anything that seems interestin'!” Benny called after him._ _

__“Or one of those Heath Bars!” Donna added. After a moment, a carton of ice cream bars popped up out of the van, into her hands. “Love these things,” she said._ _

__“Hey, get one for me!” Gabriel called down._ _

__“Fuck you, Gabriel!” Gadreel called back, his voice echoing in the depths of the van. But then Gabriel was bonked on the head by a box of frozen treats. He pulled one out and peered at the wrapper. “A fruit bar? Fuck that. Hey, wanna trade, Donna?”_ _

__“For a Heath Bar?” asked Donna. “No way, Jose!”_ _

__Castiel sighed, and then sunk down to sit on the floor. “Hey, you OK, Cas?” asked Dean, who squatted down beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder._ _

__“I am … a little fatigued,” Cas confessed. “I have done much flying today, and my endurance is limited.”_ _

__Dean lowered his voice. “You eaten lunch today, babe?”_ _

__Castiel smiled shyly at the endearment. “No, Dean. And I didn't get breakfast, come to think of it.”_ _

__“All right then, no arguments. We're gonna go around the corner, get you a burger or something.” He stood and extended a hand. Cas grabbed it and got, somewhat shakily, to his feet. Dean called to the group clustered around the van that they would be back shortly, getting only muttered replies as everyone else seemed mesmerized by Gadreel's daring non-Euclidean spelunking, and they left the garage, Dean leading Cas towards the Moonlite, a nearby diner that served up a really delicious pecan pie. Benny's niece, Elizabeth, worked there. Dean had flirted with her a bit before he learned of the familial relationship, at which point he backed off (Benny was rather protective of his kin). As it turned out, there were no hard feelings either way, and the diner still offered the best pie in town, as well as delicious burgers._ _

__“Dean!” said Elizabeth as they entered. But she was looking at Cas._ _

__Dean noticed he still had an arm around his friend. He dropped it self-consciously. “Elizabeth. Uh, hey! Haven’t seen you in a dog’s age,” he told her as Cas gave him a curious glance, and she ushered them to a booth. “You’ve been off….”_ _

__“Visitin’ the folks down south,” she volunteered. Cas slid into one side of a booth, and Dean hurried to the other side, which provoked a disappointed expression. “Glad I got back when I did, sounds like that storm is disrupting a lot of travel.” She gestured towards the ancient black and white TV set up on the counter. The sound was turned low, but it was currently transmitting picture of a weather man wildly gesticulating towards a map of the area. There were cartoon storm clouds swarming around him._ _

__“I heard it’s gonna pass us over.”_ _

__“Mm.” Elizabeth was still staring at the TV. “Anyway, are you handsome gentlemen here for the pie?” Once more, she was smiling towards Cas._ _

__“Maybe later! This is my friend, Cas. And, uh, we’re hoping for a couple of your burgers. And maybe some huckleberry shakes?”_ _

__“Coming right up! Nice meeting you, Cas.” She sauntered off to deliver the order to the cook._ _

__Dean turned his attention to Cas, who was still looking puzzled. “You doing OK?” he asked._ _

__“I am a little tired. A hamburger would be good right now.”_ _

__Cas did look tired – he had worrying dark circles under his eyes. “Your brother, Gabe, he always order you around like that?”_ _

__Cas bridled. “I am indebted to Gabriel.”_ _

__“Hey, no offense.”_ _

__“Gabriel was the one who brought me into the family.”_ _

__“You didn't grow up with Chuck?” Dean suddenly realized he had no idea. He had the idea that Gabriel and Raphael were older, but he had no idea how much older._ _

__Cas was now staring out the window, his hands folded on the table. “Briefly, I was brought up in a series of foster homes. My history is not unlike what I understand of the abducted boys: you might term it chaotic.”_ _

__“Did you know you were- That you were special?”_ _

__Cas turned. His eyes found Dean, and fixed him with a stare. “My powers, you mean? That was a blessing.”_ _

__“Seriously?”_ _

__“I can fly Dean. I could fly away.”_ _

__“Yeah, but your problems were still there when you got back!” Dean could talk about that one. “Wait, I'm sorry.”_ _

__Castiel considered this for a long moment. “No, you're right. But Gabriel discovered me, and brought me to our father. He- he was much different then. I wish you had known him.”_ _

__They were briefly interrupted as Elizabeth set out a couple of milkshakes. Dean grabbed his straw and started to drink. Cas regarded him curiously. “Try it, Cas!” said Dean. “Real ice cream.”_ _

__“Milkshakes,” Cas mused. “My brother likes these.”_ _

__Dean put a finger over his straw and pulled it out, and then drank huckleberry shake from the bottom of the straw. Cas's eyes went wide, and he repeated the gesture, though he ended up dribbling some liquid from his mouth._ _

__Grinning, Dean leaned over and wiped the shake off Cas's chin with his thumb. He started, though, when Elizabeth arrived suddenly with bottles of ketchup and mustard. She winked at Dean, who hastily withdrew back to his side of the booth, a guilty look on his face. Cas peered at him, searching his face._ _

__Dean grabbed his napkin and began wiping off his sticky thumb. “Uh,” he said, staring at the napkin, “so what happened with Chuck? Your father, I mean?”_ _

__“He attempted to make mental contact with the Old One. Much like Mr. Pryce.”_ _

__“Like Rowena MacLeod,” Dean muttered, poking his straw in his milkshake._ _

__Cas looked up, a question in his eyes. “Unfortunately, we did not manage to snap him out of the trance in time, and he was … much changed.”_ _

__“So you've been pursuing these characters for some time? The Old Ones?”_ _

__“Yes. It is our duty.”_ _

__“You believe in that stuff? Fate and duty and that kinda crap?”_ _

__Castiel smiled. A broad, bright smile that seemed to brighten up the entire diner. Dean could only lean back, let it wash over him, and let himself answer with a small, hesitant smile of his own._ _

__“Duty?” said Cas softly. “Yes. Duty.”_ _

__

___Many years ago...._ _ _

__The lines were getting longer. It was that time of year again: customers, filled with the spirit of the season, pushing and shoving and glaring and grumbling. The floor was damp from shaken umbrellas and raincoats, tempers were short._ _

__Steve brightened as a familiar face came to the front of the line. She unloaded a pile of books on the counter near Steve's register, and then the small children who had been quietly tagging along handed up more to be added to the pile._ _

__“Mrs. Somerville,” said Steve, reaching out to prevent the piles from toppling over onto the floor. “Did you find everything you were looking for today?” It was from a script, but he managed to express it with a measure of genuine warmth._ _

__She pulled back a strand of hair from her forehead and let out a small huff of laughter. Oddly, as the day was cloudy, she was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. “You see this! I found too much!”_ _

__“Do you have one of our membership cards?” he inquired of one of the children, a honey-haired girl, who was a small copy of her mother. She immediately ducked behind her mother, but then peeked out and grinned at Steve. Mrs. Somerville dug a plastic card out of her pocketbook, handed it over to the girl, who timidly handed it up to Steve. “Thank you, ma'am,” said Steve, and the girl giggled._ _

__“Can I hand him something?” asked the boy. He was small, with very thick glasses._ _

__“You can hand over the credit card, but you must be very careful!” the mother told him while Steve began to scan in the pile of books._ _

__A large, square-jawed man shouldered his way towards the counter. Steve was going to chide him regarding cutting in line, but instead he addressed Mrs. Somerville. “What the hell is taking so long?”_ _

__“We're almost done,” Mrs. Somerville told him, handing her credit card over to Steve._ _

__“Hey, I wanted to do that!” the little boy told her._ _

__“What is all this crap?” asked the man, who Steve now took to be Mr. Somerville. He picked up one of the books and balanced it in his hand._ _

__“Books for the children,” said Mrs. Somerville softly. She quietly handed her credit card to the boy, who went on tippy-toe at the counter to give it to Steve._ _

__“The happy little elf? What a bunch of shit.” Mr. Somerville tossed the book back on the pile and nearly sent it all cascading to the floor. “Just pay and let's get the fuck outta here.”_ _

__“Almost done,” she muttered again, once again careful not to make eye contact with her husband._ _

__Steve began bagging the books, although all the time keeping a wary eye towards Mr. Somerville. One of the books slipped to the floor. “Hurry it up, asshole!” Mr. Somerville groused, and then he stalked off, muttering, “Dumb shit.”_ _

__“Receipt in the bag?” Steve inquired of Mrs. Somerville._ _

__She tipped up her sunglasses for a moment to rub her eyes. She had a black eye. “I'm sorry,” she whispered to Steve. “Christmas shopping. He gets in a mood.”_ _

__“Did you recently experience an accident, Mrs. Somerville?” inquired Steve._ _

__“Um, yes. Yes. Ran into a door. Thank you.” She suddenly grabbed her bags and fled away from his cash register._ _

__“Bye!” said the girl. Steve waved back at her, and the children hurried after their mother._ _

__Steve greeted the next customer, but kept an eye on the family as they herded out of the bookstore._ _

__Steve had a keen eye._ _

__

__It hadn't been difficult to trace her: Mrs. Somerville's home address was listed on her discount card. Technically, Steve probably wasn't supposed to be checking records like that, but as he had secured a job that paid only minimum wage, he considered this to be among the perks._ _

__And so he sat in solitude, engaging in quiet observation. Mrs. Somerville flitted around her house with a kind of nervous energy as her children sat, playing quietly. There was nothing wrong with this domestic scene, but it gave Steve a particular mindset, as if he were observing the proverbial calm before the storm._ _

__The weather front arrived eventually in the form of Mr. Somerville. Judging from the late hour, as well as from the smell of his breath (Steve was a good distance away, but his senses were especially keen) Mr. Somerville had stopped off at the local tavern before coming home from work. This meant that dinner, which Mrs. Somerville had prepared (Steve had noted previously that Mr. Somerville took part in few domestic chores) had no doubt gone past its optimum palatability. Apparently, despite his rather manifest culpability in this eventuality, Mr. Somerville took issue with this._ _

__He raised his hand._ _

__Two silent children held their breath._ _

__As if from nowhere, a shadow appeared. Quite abruptly, Mr. Somerville found his hand stilled by Steve’s firm grip._ _

__“What the fucking fuck are you?” Mr. Somerville raged. He attempted to make his fist connect with something, but that only caused Steve to twist around, and thus Mr. Somerville ended up with his arm wrenched painfully behind his back._ _

__“You will not raise your hand again,” Steve informed him quietly. Steve was now aware of two small pairs of eyes blinking at him from the living room._ _

__“Steve?” asked Mrs. Somerville. “What- what are you doing here?”_ _

__“I thought that this situation called for an intervention,” Steve told her, though he did not take his eyes from Mr. Somerville, who was proving most uncooperative._ _

__“Is that what you’ve been doing behind my back?” demanded Mr. Somerville. “You bitch!”_ _

__“No, no, it’s not what you think!” pleaded Mrs. Somerville. “Steve is, uh, my martial arts instructor!”_ _

__“Do you take judo, Mommy?” asked the little girl, as the little boy feigned some karate chops._ _

__Now quite confused, Steve stared at Mrs. Somerville for a moment. This allowed Mr. Somerville to wrest himself from his grasp. Unfortunately for him, he chose to attempt to strike Steve once again, a move that failed spectacularly as Mr. Somerville found himself now flung across the kitchen, smacking into the counter, which caused a pan of lukewarm mashed potatoes to come crashing down on his head._ _

__The children shrieked in victory as a distressed Mr. Somerville spat out potato. But suddenly, Mrs. Somerville flew across the room, kneeling at his side. “Leave him alone!” she yelled at Steve. “Don’t!”_ _

__“I don’t understand,” Steve admitted as Mr. Somerville attempted to wipe potatoes out of his eyes._ _

__“Just- just get out. Get out, please!” Mrs. Somerville asked. Steve noticed she was crying. It was the last straw, and so he disappeared into a shadow, and then was once again perched on a branch overlooking the Somerville house._ _

__He was now not alone up there. With a bit of huffing and puffing, and branches crackling, a brown-haired man was no sitting next to him, brushing needles from his jacket._ _

__“Worked like Vietnam, huh?” the man asked him._ _

__“I’m sorry?” asked Steve._ _

__“Sorry. The name’s Gabe – Gabe Laufeyson. We’ve been watching over you for a while, my brothers and me. I think we can help.”_ _

__“Help me? How?”_ _

__“Listen and observe, young Grasshopper!” said Gabe, pointing to the Somerville household._ _

__“I’m not an insect,” protested Steve, who cast a puzzled glance at the house. The siren sounding in the distance came closer, and a police car pulled up in the driveway._ _

__“Seems someone in the neighborhood heard a domestic dispute going on and called it in,” whispered Gabe, who was holding up his cell phone. The police entered the house. “She’s not gonna press charges, but it’s quite possible that these officers of the law will observe that Mr. Somerville is in possession of an unregistered firearm, tsk!”_ _

__True to Gabe’s words, the policemen soon appeared; escorting a now handcuffed Mr. Somerville to their police car._ _

__“What will happen to Mrs. Somerville?” Steve asked._ _

__“Well, that’s a very good question!” said Gabe, who handed over a small bag of chocolate popcorn he was now snacking on. Steve took a handful and was surprised to discover that it was warm. “Seems someone must have put in a call to the local women’s shelter, because here’s a representative right now!” Indeed, a nondescript minivan was now pulling up at the house. A steel grey-haired woman and a man wearing a priest’s collar emerged from the van and knocked on the door. Steve and a munching Gabriel kept watch, and after a while, the two from the van re-emerged, escorting Mrs. Somerville, her two children, and a variety of suitcases and boxes from the house._ _

__“And there we go!” said Gabriel as the van took off, tossing a bit of chocolate popcorn as if in celebration. A couple of small birds landed, and pecked at the kernels that had landed in the branches._ _

__“Why- why did you do this?” asked Steve._ _

__“Well, as I said, kiddo, I’m a representative of a small group of interested parties, and we’ve been watchin’ you. Not in a weird way, I mean. We wanted to invite you to, so to speak, join the family!”_ _

__Steve mulled this over._ _

__“I hope this isn’t weird,” Gabe noted. “I mean, it’s not like a cult or anything. Though the leader is our dad. And the other dudes are my brothers. And, uh, you’ll probably change your name.”_ _

__“I never particularly liked Steven anyway,” Steve told him._ _

__

__Dean chewed thoughtfully on his burger. “Wait, so you joined Gabriel and them because you didn’t like your name?”_ _

__Cas caught him with a sharp glance. “Do I seem like a Steve to you?”_ _

__“Well, not particularly.” Dean eyed his cell phone, which had just gotten twitchy. He read the text message. “Sounds like they’re getting near done on the search,” he told Cas. “Wanna head back?”_ _


	17. Chapter 17

Dean and Cas arrived back at the police station to find an impromptu ice cream party going on out in the parking lot. The word must have spread through police headquarters and over to the courthouse, because there was now a small crowd surrounding the van, all eating ice cream bars and chatting. Charlie was sitting cross-legged on the hood of an old Plymouth, clutching a book on Non-Euclidean geometry and talking to Donna. Victor Henricksen was trying very hard to look stern while eating a rainbow flavored Snow Cone. Even Judge Singer was there, shaking his head and carefully peeling the wrapper off an ice cream sandwich. “This is the strangest god damn search that's ever been conducted.”

“You wanna try goin' in there?” Benny asked him, nodding towards the van. He had just finished some kind of strawberry popsicle and his teeth had turned red. 

“Not me, boy,” said Bobby. 

“Hey Dean!” shouted Benny. “That Gadreel fella says he's pretty much poked anywhere that he could go pokin'. We were about to call a halt.”

“And you guys ate all our evidence?” Dean asked.

“Didn't want it to melt!” laughed Benny, rubbing his belly and grinning a big, red grin.

There came a muffled cry, and everyone suddenly went quiet and looked towards the van. Something came flying out, and landed with a soft thud on the ground. Everyone gathered around, pressing into a circle around it, but no one dared pick it up.

And then Gadreel appeared at the door of the van, red-faced and sweating. “I think that's it,” he said softly. He inclined his head towards the object on the ground. “Is that-?”

“I'll go,” said Donna, and she quickly left the group and sprinted towards headquarters. The group stood in silence until Donna returned, now with an arm around Sheriff Jody Mills's shoulders.

Jody and Donna paused at the edge of the circle, and Jody stared. “Take you time, dear,” Donna urged.

Jody walked two steps, and then she fell to her knees. She picked up the baseball cap, blinking back tears, and hugged it to herself.

Dean crouched down next to her. “Jody-”

“It's Owen's cap. This is the one he was wearing. This is it.” She held it up with shaking hands, and showed Dean where “O. MILLS” had been written out in marking pen in the brim.

“You want a warrant?” asked Judge Singer. “You got it. Tear that place upside down. You find that boy.”

“Jody,” said Dean, gripping her shoulder. “We're going. We're gonna bring your boy home.”

 

Owen nervously glanced out the window once again. Justin said they needed something important from town, so some of the men who had been patrolling around the house had been sent out there. And, truly, he hadn't glimpsed as many guards out walking tonight. But he was still worried about the personnel inside the house. There were guys posted right outside Dick Roman's door – and they were big.

On the other hand, there was the cover of darkness. And Owen had spent his whole life here. He knew this valley – this whole area. These men were strangers. 

But would it be enough?

He had to try. Justin had been really scared. And Justin was a ghost! 

At least, Owen was pretty sure he was a ghost. He hadn't outright asked him about it. It seemed rude.

Justin was listening at the door. He nodded. Owen went down on one knee next to Alfie. “I'll be back for you, I promise,” he whispered.

Alfie gave him a big old hug. It made Owen feel like shit, but it also seemed to energize him. That funny healing thing Alfie did.

Being careful to tiptoe, Owen made his way to the bathroom and tentatively climbed up onto the toilet seat. Fortunately, it didn't creak. He got up on his knees on the back of the tank, and carefully slipped the lock on the window open. He stared at the tree outside, calculating the distance of the nearest branch for the millionth time.

He put both hands on the window sash and, holding his breath, gave a big push.

The alarm shrieked, many times louder than he had ever imagined. But he had no time, he would only get one chance, so he wriggled through the small gap, twisting his hips when he got stuck by his belt loop.

Footsteps down the hall. They were running! Now he was out on the ledge, tree in his grasp.

The door burst open. He could hear them shouting.

“WEGGO!” Alfie called happily. Owen heard the rattling as he spilled the little bricks across the floor, and then the cries of the stocking-footed guards as they stepped on the blocks.

Nothing hurts like stepping on a LEGO.

Owen was on the tree branch, shinnying down. He dropped to the soft ground, hoping and praying not to twist an ankle. And then he ran off into the night, alarm still sounding in his ears.

In the distance, thunder crashed. As Owen ran, it began to rain. It fell lightly at first, but then harder and harder.

 

Dean awoke to a vision in neon orange knocking at his front door.

“Rise and shine. We got us a warrant to serve,” grunted Benny, who invited himself in, shaking off the rain. As if to emphasize his entreaty, thunder chose that moment to crash and boom.

“I'll rise but I won't shine,” yawned Dean, scratching his belly under his T-shirt. “You look like a parking cone in that get up!”

Benny was extracting himself from the raincoat. “Department issue,” he said. “Keeps ya dry, but mine's gotten a little tight in the midsection.” 

“Maybe need to lay off the evidentiary ice cream bars.”

“You ‘bout ready?” asked Benny, who grabbed a mug and helped himself to the dregs of Dean's coffee pot.

“I was just about to hop in the shower.”

Benny sipped his coffee and raised an eyebrow. Dean whirled around to regard a sleepy-eyed, bed-headed Cas, wearing plaid pajama pants and one of Dean's Let Zeppelin T-shirts. Cas shuffled past him, offering a quick peck to Dean’s temple. 

“Late night?” Benny asked Dean, a small smile curling around his coffee mug.

“Would you care for a cup of coffee, Detective Lafitte?” inquired Cas, staring with owl eyes at the empty coffee pot.

“I got mine, thanks,” said Benny. “Bit strong. You got creamer?”

Without missing a beat, Cas popped open the fridge and produced a carton of Coffee Mate, which he handed off to Benny.

“Uh, Cas … likes coffee,” Dean explained.

“Although I customarily take it black,” Cas added. He got up on his tiptoes and nosed around Dean’s cabinets. “You should get whole beans, Dean, as they deliver richer flavor,” he groused, holding up a bag of ground coffee.

“Uh,” said Dean, as Benny’s grin wrapped around his whole face. 

“Andrea gets herself some real nice coffee at the whole foods market,” said Benny, drizzling creamer into his coffee. “My my, Detective Winchester, this is one spoon-meltin’ batch you just cooked up.”

Dean fled towards the bathroom.

“I gotta say,” said Benny some time later, as the partners drove through the seething rainstorm towards the Bitterroot, “whatever his personal shortcomings, that Castiel makes one mean cup o’ Joe.”

“Personal shortcomings?” grumbled Dean, peering out the foggy windows of Benny’s truck. 

“No offense meant.”

Dean sighed. “None taken. Look this is…. I don’t know what this is.”

“Well, you don’t go screwing up the whatever, or my Andrea will have your head.” Dean stared at his partner. “She thinks he’s good-lookin’, or whatever might be. Think she had it in her head to pair him off with one of her I-talian cousins or suchlike.”

“But…. Wait, Andrea never foisted me off on a cousin!”

“You wanted to be foisted off on a I-talian cousin?”

Dean found he didn’t have an answer for that one. “Look, Benny, could we just…. Could you just…. I’d like to keep this quiet. For now. There’s so much happening, with Cas and with this case.”

Benny shrugged. “Whatever you want. But I’m definitely comin’ over for more coffee.”

Dean chewed on that one for a while. If he was going to mess this one up- Well, he’d probably have plenty of opportunity to do it on his own. “So who all are we meeting up with out there?”

“Thought I told you. Sorry, it’s just us. No back up.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I know, but what with this weather, Henricksen has everybody on flood watch. We’ve loaned some folks off to neighboring counties where they’re getting hit.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean whispered. It made sense – he could barely see the road ahead, and they were just getting the edge of the storm. But if they were serving Roman, he had wanted to have at least a cursory show of force. He wanted to make them think twice about trying anything sleazy. “We shoulda brought Cas’s brother along. Gabe could talk his way into anywhere.”

“Yeah: silver tongue, that one. But let’s try it once the old fashioned way? And then we can think to bring the reinforcements. Well, I’ll be damned!” That last comment came after they turned a corner and finally came in sight of the wall that now prevented entry into the canyon Roman had bought out. “Looks bigger than it did on the TV.”

Dean didn’t respond, but pointed out where one of Roman’s men was patrolling the top, high powered rifle with a scope at the ready. 

“Pity the poor fucker out in this weather,” said Benny. He pulled to a stop near the gate, and he and Dean got out of the truck, Dean hunching his shoulders against the pouring rain. Benny peered under his rainproof hood and hit a button on the squeaky little speaker box attached to the side of the gate. “Hey, we here are police officers, and we got a warrant to search these premises. I’d politely suggest that you open up.” 

He was answered after a brief pause by a couple of armed men who strolled out towards the gate. Benny extracted a badge from underneath his wet weather wear, and Dean did the same. “Like I said, got a warrant. I’d like to suggest that you open this gate so me ‘n my partner can have a look around.”

“This is Mr. Roman’s land,” said one of the guards. “You got no authority here.”

“Well, I’ll leave that to the courts to decide. Over my pay grade, you could say.”

“You need to drop your weapons and comply,” said Dean.

“You might wanna comply,” said Benny. “My partner here, he gets twitchy in the sight of guns.”

“Leave. Now,” ordered the guard who had spoken before, and now both men raised their weapons. Dean had his gun out as well.

Benny held up his hands. “Now, now, there ain’t no need for this. Why don’t you just open up, we’ll come in, have a little bitty chat. We’re just officers of the law here, tryin’ to do our job.”

“We said, leave,” the guard repeated.

“We can do this now,” said Benny, “and it can be real friendly, or we can go and get our friends, and maybe a backhoe, and make this difficult. It’s a real nice job you did on this gate. Nice metal work! Would be a shame to dent it.”

“Benny!” shouted Dean. He had just noticed the red dot dancing in the middle of his partner's chest. “Watch out.”

Then a number of things happened very quickly. A shot rang out, Benny pulled his weapon, Dean aimed for the top of the wall, squeezed off a shot, and then felt a terrible pain in the middle of his chest. He heard more shots as he rolled in back of the truck. He tore open his muddy jacket to discover his bulletproof vest had done it's job. “Benny?” He crawled back around the truck and saw to his horror that Benny was sprawled in the mud. “Benny!”

Benny didn’t reply, but emitted a soft moan and shifted slightly. 

Dean pulled out his cell phone. “Cas!”

“Dean? I am at the local whole foods market, and have found a highly recommended brand of organic beans….”

“Cas! Fuck the organic beans. We need you! I need you! Now! Out at Roman’s! We’re at the gate! Benny’s been-“

“He appears to have been shot,” said Cas, his voice oddly doubled. He was crouched next to Dean, but also still talking on his cell phone.

“Cas,” said Dean, hanging up, which caused a puzzled look from Cas. “They’re shooting! Can you get him?”

“Of course-“

“Fly him to the university hospital.”

“But what about you, Dean?”

“I’m good. Get him the hell outta here!”

“All right.” And just as quickly as that, a shadow fell over Benny, and he was gone. 

The shooting paused for a long moment as, Dean reckoned, the folks shooting at them stopped to wonder what the fuck had happened. He seized the moment to leap into the cab of Benny's truck, back it up at a rapid pace, and drive the hell out of there. The old beater had sustained a broken back window in the process, but he figured Benny's truck was a piece of shit anyway, and he liked the breeze. 

He thought to grab the radio, only to find that the shot that had blown out the back window had also by chance taken it out. He was cursing and dropping the handset when he noticed he was no longer alone in the truck.

“Dean,” Cas yelled over the rushing wind. “Your back window has been broken.”

“It's Benny's back window. How is he? You get him there in time?”

Cas was red-faced. “I took him to the University hospital, where I left him in Dr. Moore's capable hands. I had noticed that you have a lot of confidence in her.”

“Well. OK. Yeah.”

“Dean. You are injured as well.” 

Dean's hand went to his chest. It hurt like hell to breath. He may have busted a rib, but that didn't matter now. “The vest took most of it. Look, Cas, your job now is to get back over that wall and see where the hell they're holding Owen!”

“I cannot go over the wall, Dean.”

“What?”

“I assume you wished me to fly there. Unfortunately, I am now incapable of breaching the wall. I had sensed that as a priority as well, so I had been attempting to return to the house. I fear they have employed some magical warding.”

“Dammit!” Dean pounded the wheel with his fist. 

“I'm sorry, Dean.”

Dean sighed. “It's not you, Cas. OK. We're gonna come back, and we're gonna come back, guns a-blazing.”

 

Owen mills huddled beneath a tree, shivering and sopping wet. The sky had burst open soon after he'd made it out of the house. Between the dark and the sheets of rain, he had become disoriented, and suspected he had ended up running in circles much of the night. He'd gotten nowhere. And now he was only steps ahead of Roman's men. Why had he even left the house? Maybe he was being held hostage, but at least he had been safe and warm.

The rain had mercifully died down, and he reluctantly rose, hoping to get clear. He knew there was a back entrance to the old borax mine they used to hide in, if only he could get to the right place on the ridge. After looking around for a moment trying and failing to orient himself, he glanced up and got an idea. The tree was still wet of course, but if he got up clear of the canopies, maybe he could get a sense of where he was, and where he needed to be. It was slippery as hell, but one thing Owen could do was scale a tree.

He carefully made his way up to a break in the foliage, and peered out. To his surprise and delight, he immediately recognized where he was, and saw he wasn't at all far from where he remembered finding the mine entrance. At last, he could find a place that was safe and warm.

Grinning, he started to make his way down, but froze. He heard the crackle of twigs – someone was coming near. Owen went through his meager repertoire of curse words and then, quickly as he could, climbed back up another branch, hoping to conceal himself in the foliage. It was slippery as hell, but one thing was for sure, he was a lot faster and more agile than the big goons Roman had sent after him.

He held his breath and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

“Ricky, I'm cold!” came Tommy's voice. 

And then, the one voice Owen never wanted to hear again. “Shut up, Tommy. We've nearly got him. I know it!”

As Owen waited, the two boys came into view below him. 

“I don't see him,” Tommy whined.

“He's here,” Ricky Roman Jr. insisted. “I can smell his blood!”

Ricky could smell blood? Ew! Owen gritted his teeth as his two pursuers paused for a ridiculously long time underneath his tree. He began to look around for an alternate escape route. There was another tree close by, and it was nearer to the ridge – if he could shinny out a bit farther along on the branch, he could get over there, drop to the ground, and then run for it in the clearing. Very carefully, he made his way out. He was shivering and tired, and but he was almost there. He grasped the other branch.

It creaked.

Two pairs of eyes were on him. “Gimme a boost!” Ricky ordered. Tommy awkwardly gave him a leg up to the tree Ricky was climbing. 

With no choice now, Owen grabbed the branch and scrambled for purchase in the next tree. It was weak, but he managed to make his way inwards, towards the safety of the tree trunk. 

He dared a look behind. Ricky was up the tree behind him like a shot, and already reaching across for the branch. “I'll get you, you asshole!” he shouted. But as he tried to shift his weight, the branch gave way, crackling like a shot as he now dangled, feet kicking, red-faced. 

“Help me!” he screamed at Owen, who was hugging the tree trunk. 

“Fuck you,” Owen snapped, glad his mom couldn't hear.

And then, to Owen's horror, Ricky … changed. He screamed, and his head was all mouth and snapping teeth. He thrashed and snapped, and then fell with a thud.

Owen caught his breath, pushed out on another branch, and dropped to the clearing, where he began to run full speed towards the ridge. He knew this place. He could hear a commotion behind him: there were more men in the area. Dammit!

He ran around a bend and.... Nothing! Wasn't the entrance here. He heard shouts and running footsteps. Dammit! Dammit dammit dammit. 

And then he spotted it – the white powder on the ground. He grabbed a handful. The borax mine! It had to be near. 

Just then someone ran around the same bend, shotgun in hand. Without thinking, Owen hurled the handful of borax into the guy's face.

The man screamed in agony. Owen was caught up short again – the skin of the guy's face began to boil away. What the hell?

But he had no time to think. He ran up and looked behind a rocky outcropping. There it was! He slipped inside the rotted wooden planks that blocked the entrance, and plunged inside, expecting to hear running footsteps behind him. But that never came, so he continued, stumbling through the dark.

 

“I just don't have the personnel now, Dean.” Henricksen was holding a cup of stale hospital coffee and staring out the window at the gathering storm.

“Dammit, boss!” Dean fumed as Castiel looked on. “They shot my partner! And we know damn well they're holding Owen Mills. We're running out of time.”

“Look outside!” said Henricksen, waving a hand. “I had to send some men over to neighboring counties to deal with the flooding, and the feds are tied up as well.” 

“They shot an officer of the law!”

Henricksen turned back to Dean. His voice softened. “Don't you think I wanna go out there with everything we got? But right now, three of the neighboring counties have been declared disaster areas.” 

“Victor.” Dean had lowered his voice as well.

“Dammit, Dean.” Victor bit his lip. “I gotta get going myself, I promised to get out to supervise some rescue operations. If you do anything – _anything_ – I don't wanna know about it. Understood?”

Dean started to reply, but then caught himself. Henricksen tapped his own forehead, and then stalked out of the waiting room, dialing his cell phone.

“Dean?” Cas asked, but just then, Andrea Lafitte and her sister appeared, escorted by one of the nurses.

“Andrea!” said Dean. “Any word?” 

She blinked back tears, her sister's arm around her shoulder. “He is- He is out of the woods, so they say. He is stable. But it is still serious.” She stared at Cas. “They say getting him here, so swiftly – that may have saved his life. You brought him?” 

Cas nodded. “Yes, I did the best I-” But he suddenly found himself swept up in Andrea's embrace. 

“Thank you! Thank you so much! You are our angel.” She kissed him, Continental-style, and then so did her sister, and Castiel flushed beet-red.

“Uh, so Benny's gonna be OK?” Dean inquired.

“The doctor, he said the next few hours will tell. We will go and wait. I will call you if anything happens. Thank you Dean. And Castiel!” Andrea blew a kiss and she and her sister disappeared down the corridor, in quick march behind the nurse.

“You're popular, buddy,” Dean told Cas. He noticed that several of the doctors and nurses passing by were giving Cas the side eye.

“Dean!” Dean smiled automatically at the sound of his brother's voice. Sam was hand in hand with Jess, who was staring at Cas with the same odd expression as her colleagues.

“Sam. Dr. Moore,” said Cas. “I understand Dean's partner is being tended to?”

Jess went up to Cas and crossed her arms, staring at him. “Yeah. Yeah, that was … quite a surprise.” She turned to scowl accusingly at Dean. “There's a lot been going on lately that I guess I wasn't aware of.”

Dean looked around, quite suddenly aware of why Cas was suddenly a center of interest: he must have flown Benny straight to the hospital. _Into_ the hospital. Yeah, that would probably cause a bit of a stir. “Cas, um, can do stuff.”

“Can he?” asked Jess. _“Stuff?”_ Sam was giving his most guileless expression and raising his hands, palms up. 

“Given the gravity of the situation, I thought it best to transport the detective as swiftly as possible!” Cas told Dean.

“You did OK, Cas. Listen, Jess, we-”

But Dean was interrupted by a commotion down the hall, and the cry, “Stop that hamster!” Dean drew his weapon, but then was taken aback to see a small, furry animal scurrying past him.

“Uh, what?”

“That's Dr. Shepherd!” screamed a nurse.

“That's a hamster,” said Dean.

Cas swiftly did his shadow thing, half-turning and winging down the hallway, then reappearing before them, holding a small, frightened creature cradled in his hands. “He has been enchanted,” said Cas.

Jess had grabbed Sam's arm and retreated back several steps. “All right,” she said. “All right, you can do stuff, but you gotta warn me first!” 

“What is happening?” Dean demanded, holstering his weapon, as he had no idea how to utilize it in this situation.

Just then, Crowley came ambling down the hallway, lugging a rather large book in his skinny, tattooed arms. “Our Mum's been waking up, a bit,” he supplied. “But she's not right in the head. Not that she ever was, the old biddy. But she's been casting spells at certain of her caretakers, causing rather a commotion. Is that you, mate?” he added, squinting at the hamster snuggled in Cas's hands.

“This is a doctor?” asked Dean. 

Crowley opened the spell book and began to thumb through. “Was trying to reverse it. But I'm a bit rusty.”

“May I see?” asked Cas, handing the hamster over to Dean, who fumbled it a bit, but then awkwardly cradled it to his chest.

“Think it's this transubstantiation.” Crowley stopped on a yellowed page with a woodcut of a man transforming into a howling, fur-covered monster.

Dean held up the hamster. “Uh, that doesn't quite look right.”

“False advertising,” muttered Crowley, “Not a new thing.”

Cas extended a hand and Crowley passed over the dusty book. “Gabriel tells me that the most common form of spell reversal is to recite the incantation backwards,” said Cas.

Crowley shrugged. “Sounds barmey enough to work. Why not give it a try? Can't be worse.”

“All right,” said Cas, putting a finger on the spell.

Realizing what was in store, Dean began to panic. “Wait, you're enchanting the hamster? Do I need to step back? Or put on a lead apron?” He ended up extending the poor hamster at arm's length, and squeezing his eyes shut while everyone else in the corridor save Crowley and Cas took three or more steps way, _way_ back.

Cas spoke rapid, precise Latin, and Dean felt a small burst in his hands, like the zap you get from walking along a carpet and touching a doorknob. He dropped the hamster, which fell to the floor, and as it tumbled down, transformed into a rather large, rather confused naked man. 

As Dean stood, amazed, Cas and Crowley nodded at one another, and Cas passed back the book. Jess leapt from where Sam had been shielding her with his body and knelt down by the man's side. “Dr. Shepherd? Derek?”

“Whoa!” said the doctor. “I think I just got some bad shrooms.”

Sam was peering over Crowley's shoulder. “That's all you have to do? Recite some high school Latin?”

Crowley snapped the book shut. “That's not all! I also had to gather herbs.”

“So, go to Ralphs?” said Sam hopefully. Crowley glowered.

“Sam, this ain't Hogwarts,” Dean reminded him. 

Crowley looked shrewd. Of course, he always looked shrewd. Now he looked _especially_ shrewd. “I have something for you boys,” he told Dean.

“Yeah, you mentioned that before.” Dean was somewhat distractedly keeping an eye on Jess. Someone had come out with scrubs for the still disorientated Dr. Shepherd to change into, but as Jess was shining a light into his eyes and speaking softly to him, a nurse ran over and whispered something to her. 

She handed Dr. Shepherd over to another person and came striding over to Dean. “Owen Mills.” She grabbed his arm. “Dean, they've found Owen Mills!”


	18. Chapter 18

Owen was sitting on an exam table, dutifully breathing in and out and saying “Ah,” when ordered, but between interruptions he was chattering nonstop to the pediatrician and his mother, who stood just to his side, her eyes welling over.

The boy was covered from head to toe with some kind of white, chalky substance that dusted into the air every time he gestured.

Dean was still a little out of breath from running all the way over to this wing of the hospital. Cas and Sam had followed him, but he hadn't raised any objection to that. Ash and Rufus were hanging out, just outside the exam room, so he decided to start with them. They were also coated like a couple of powdered donuts – _borax_ , Dean realized.

“You guys found him?” Dean prompted.

Ash and Rufus exchanged a glance, and then both started up talking excitedly at the same time. “One at a time!” Dean scolded.

“We thought he was a ghost!” said Ash.

“ _You_ thought he was a ghost,” sighed Rufus.

“He came out of the mine, white as a sheet!”

“Walked all the way over from the other side.”

“I didn't know it went all the way through like that.”

“You knew it went through – we have maps.”

“I don't trust maps.”

“Why not trust maps? Maps are maps!”

“That's what the government wants us to think!”

“Guys, guys!” Dean held up a hand. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He told us to coat ourselves but good in the Borax!” said Ash, shaking his head and raising a white cloud. “It’s the only thing that keeps away the monsters.”

Dean coughed and pointed to the men. “You mean you guys did this to yourselves on purpose?”

“Yeah,” said Rufus. “You can’t be certain nowadays. We got extra, if you need it.” 

“Sacks left over from when the mine was closing down!” Ash added.

“But we should warn the town,” said Rufus.

“Guys!” Dean was waving his arms, but the two had started talking over one another again.

“Hey, I have an idea,” said Sam, putting an arm around either of them. “Why don’t you go back to the mine and make an inventory, so we know where we stand?”

“Oh, yeah, great idea,” said Ash as Rufus nodded. 

Dean mouthed a silent “thank you” to his brother, who was escorting the two back out the door, when he felt someone gripping his shoulder. “Hey, Jody,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. 

“I was so worried,” Jody confessed, wiping a tear.

Sam, who was the family's expert hugger, took charge and enveloped Jody in his biggest Moose embrace. “Everything's OK,” he said, patting her back and grinning. “It's all good.” Jody coughed, as Sam had transferred some of the powder from Rufus and Ash to her.

“I suppose we will not have to re-enter Roman's valley?” Cas inquired, and found himself too swallowed by Jody's hug.

“Nooo!” Owen protested. He was standing there, stomping a bare foot and dislodging a shimmer of white powder. “You gotta go back!” He searched the faces of the adults gathered around. “I told Alfie I'd be back. I promised. You gotta go! You gotta get him!”

Wishing Benny were around (he knew how to talk to kids), Dean crouched down to be eye to eye with the boy. “He won't stop talking about his friend, Alfie,” Jody told him. 

“Alfie?” Dean asked Owen. “Can you describe him?”

Owen held his hand out. “This high. He was blond. He looks a lot like Justin.”

“Justin?” asked Jody, now alarmed. 

“Justin Fogler, you mean?” Dean prompted.

“Yeah, but Justin's a ghost, so I don't know what you can do. Maybe get him more LEGO?”

Jody was now crouching down beside Dean. “Owen, you need to be truthful now, honey.”

“I'm telling the truth, mom! Alfie and Justin helped me – they dumped the LEGO. And then I ran! And Ricky is a monster, and he tried to bite me. But I ran into the mine.” He held up a hand. “They can't stand the Borax stuff. It makes them scream! I don't know why. I think they're all monsters too. Ricky and his dad and all of them.”

“Ricky...?” asked Jody.

“Ricky Roman?” asked Sam. 

“Yeah, Dick Roman is Ricky's dad, that's why he's such a douche!” said Owen.

“Owen! Language,” Jody scolded, though she seemed much distracted. The pediatrician was hanging at the door, also looking puzzled. “Owen, I think we need to finish your exam!”

“Aww!” Owen groused.

“It's OK,” Dean told him, ruffing his hair, raising more white dust. “You've been a been a big help, buddy.”

“You'll find Alfie?” the boy asked.

“I promise.” 

Owen grinned a powdery grin and marched back into the exam room. But then he suddenly halted. “Oh, yeah, and Justin wanted me to tell you that there’s a big monster coming? Gonna eat the world or something?”

Dean, Sam and Cas exchanged a glance. “Uh. OK, Owen.”

Owen disappeared back into the room. “I’m not gonna get a shot, am I?” he asked the doctor. Jody followed, frowning and whispering to the doctor. She shot a concerned look at Dean, and then pulled the door shut behind her.

Dean looked at his hand: it was now coated with powder from when he had ruffed Owen’s hair. “We shouldn’t have been shooting at them – we should have been spraying them with sink cleaner.”

Cas had his cell phone at his ear. “Dean, it’s Gabriel.”

“Great! What good news does he have? Has he been turned into a newt?”

“He says a monster is coming to eat the world.”

“Tell him we already know.”

Cas, of course, said exactly that. From the squawking at the other end of the line, Gabriel did not sound pleased. 

 

Dean didn’t expect Cas’s house to be mobbed, but it seemed like Gabe had invited the whole neighborhood over. Besides Cas’s brothers, Bobby Singer had made it over, and was in the living room catching up on _Corazon de Azul_ along with Chuck. Jody had brought Owen along, and Gadreel was showing him some yoyo tricks. Donna was over from the precinct, as were Jo and Charlie, who sat on the floor, hunched over Charlie's laptop. Even Ash and Rufus had turned up, though Raphael was making them brush off the worst of the Borax.

At least the rain had stopped. The storm was not over by any means though – Dean had just gotten a message from Henricksen requesting additional personnel be sent to the neighboring counties for help with flood evacuation. 

“At least the rain has stopped,” Dean ventured, finding himself a seat on the couch.

“No, that’s terrible news!” blurted Gabe.

“Figures,” sighed Dean.

“Let me show you,” said Charlie, grabbing a couple of remote controls. The image on the TV screen changed. 

“Hey, that was my _Corazon de Azul!_ ” Bobby protested.

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel told him. “Like I told you, I know those guys.”

“Can you get me a tape?” asked Bobby.

“Dude, I could get the cast up here to perform it personally for you!”

Bobby leaned close. “Can you get that fella who plays the eye patch guy? He’s pretty cool.”

“Close personal friend,” bragged Gabe.

Charlie was now standing by the TV, pointing to the screen. “See here? I’ve overlaid the National Weather Center storm predictions with the local grid.”

“English?” asked Dean.

“Dean,” said Sam, who was now crouched down next to the TV, “look at where the eye of the storm is.”

Dean leaned forward. _Oh, shit!_ “That’s the Bitterroot.”

“That’s centered right over Roman’s property!” added Gabriel. He tossed some popcorn up into the air and swallowed it, and then tapped the TV screen. “In fact, I bet that’s the outbuilding you guys saw.”

“You think he’s keeping the storm back, Gabe?” asked Sam.

“You got it exactly backwards, kiddo.”

“Roman is the origin of the storm,” said Cas, who was standing awkwardly nearby. 

“It’s big magic,” Gabe told them. “So I’m proposing hitting him back, and hitting him hard, with our own big magic. Charlie?”

Charlie futzed around on her laptop some more, and the image on the TV screen changed. “I’ve overlaid elevation and added a flooding scenario.”

This time, the meaning was clear. Dean watched as Roman’s canyon filled with cartoon flood water a couple times. “Yeah, he built on a flood plain. So what? Like you said, he’s in the eye of the storm now.”

“But we could move it,” said Gabriel, who was now looking at his brother, Raphael.

Raphael did not appear to share Gabe’s confidence. “I can … nudge it somewhat. I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

“You control the weather, Gabriel?” asked Sam.

“Let’s say, the weather is open to persuasion. Sometimes.”

“There’s a couple of drawbacks, of course,” said Gabriel. “My brother is more persuasive than he realizes. But we’re not sure how bad water is gonna knock him out – word is the Old One’s been sleeping under the sea, so he might even enjoy it.”

“Wait, what if we lace the flood water with something nasty?” asked Dean.

Gabriel grinned. “You, I like. What do you mean?”

Dean pointed to Ash and Rufus, who were still dusty. “We know Roman and his guys don’t like Borax. And these guys just told me they’ve got stockpiles.”

“Oh, heck yeah!” agreed Ash. “We got a whole storeroom of the stuff. And a dump truck! Just tell us where you want it.”

Dean now found himself pointing at the television. “What about just upriver from Roman?” 

“Can do.”

“Dean,” Jody chimed in. “If we flood out, then you’ll have flooding in town too.”

“Yeah,” said Donna. “And we won’t have the personnel to deal with it – they’re all over in the next county! Henricksen just called me to send more folks out to help him. I was gonna send Jo off.”

“But I wanna stay here and fight the monsters!” Jo protested.

“Don’t think your mama would like that,” Donna huffed.

“When are we gonna get back to my soap?” Chuck whined.

“In a minute, Pop,” Gabe told him.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” said Sam. “Gabe, you said you know the guys who do _Corazon de Azul_ , right?”

Gabe puffed out his chest proudly. “Sure I do.”

“I got an idea – how we could keep everyone sitting at home, and out of the flood waters. That stupid soap opera!”

“It ain't stupid,” Bobby grumbled.

“What if you had a big plot twist,” Sam continued. “I dunno, like a wedding or a funeral or something?”

“I’m liking this!” said Gabe. “Like finally Maria Helena can tie the knot.”

“Yeah, Maria Helena and, uh, who's the pony tail guy again?”

Bobby was out of his seat. “No! She can’t marry Joaquin! That pony tail guy is an asshole!”

Sam and Gabe grinned at one another. “Maria Helena and Joaquin,” they chorused.

Dean's cell phone rang, and he picked it up without bothering to check the caller ID. “This is Dean,” he muttered.

“Ah, Detective Winchester.”

“Crowley?”

“As I stated before, I have something that may be of interest. Meet me in a half hour. You know the address.”

And then the line went dead.

 

The neon sign in the window still said, “PSYCHIC PALM READINGS,” perhaps because Crowley had not bothered to take it down. 

Dean, Sam and Cas emerged from the Impala. Dean nodded to Cas, who swiftly melted into a shadow. Dean and Sam entered the shop. The bell jingled to their arrival, but Dean heard nothing stir in the premises, which seemed more cluttered and dusty than ever. “Crowley?” Dean finally ventured.

“At your service, Detective Winchester,” said the junk dealer, who was suddenly standing behind the desk, holding a couple dusty old books. 

“What do you want?” Dean demanded as Sam gazed around, stopping to pull a face at a stuffed gopher that had been decked out in a pint-sized Victorian gentleman's attire. “We're kind of busy right now.”

“How is your mother?” Sam inquired. 

“Ah, a courteous Winchester brother,” said Crowley. Dean rolled his eyes. “I've been doing a bit of digging into the archives, and managed to locate an enchantment that dulled her powers. Makes her a bit easier to handle when the help's not being transmogrified into various rodents.”

“Well. That's … nice?” said Sam, setting down Gentleman Gopher.

“During my review of the relevant literature, I stumbled onto an object. A magical object. I think it's something that could prove useful for you, if you're going up against Richard Roman.”

Dean side-eyed Sam. “Uh, and why would we be doing that?”

“It's no secret that your partner was gravely wounded when you were attempting to serve a warrant on the Roman compound.”

Dean winced at the mention of Benny. “Then you also know that Owen Mills has been found.”

“Yes, he is apparently back telling tales of chatting with murder victims, and some rather dark magic afoot. Or so I've heard.”

“What's your magic, if not dark?” Sam asked as Dean's eyes narrowed.

“I, for one, believe reasonable adults such as you and I may see in shades of grey. Now, are you interested, or not?”

The brothers exchanged a wordless glance. “Let's see it,” said Dean.

Crowley gave a glance like a spider in sight of a fly, and flipped up the hinged counter. “In the back room, boys. Come on.” But he paused, holding up an index finger. “Detective Winchester, as this is a favor, I take it you will disregard certain items you might happen to see along that way that may or may not be in conformation with the municipal code.”

Dean blinked. “What do you got hidden back there? The Lindbergh baby?”

“He'll give it a blind eye,” Sam promised, and then Crowley was leading them into the back room, which was even more cramped and cluttered than the shop. It was dimly lit, but Dean spotted Aladdin's lamp, a magician's top hat with a real white rabbit peeking out of it, a whirligig that moved despite there being no breeze back here, and ceramic pots and glass jars of all kinds, including a jar labeled “lizard eyes” that was filled to the brim with the same. There were larger objects too, such as a full sized iron maiden, and a British police box tucked in one corner.

Dean wasn’t actually certain how a room of this size fit into the small store. “It’s bigger on the inside,” Sam whispered.

“What?”

“Come on!” Crowley was urging.

Dean ducked under a rack of coats and followed Crowley through yet another door, which was partially hidden behind a shelf. It led to a dimly lit staircase. Dean aimed a questioning glance at his brother, who nodded, and they both descended into the darkness, following Crowley, who was now a dim silhouette visible below. Dean started as the door behind them slammed shut with a thump. Sam shrugged at him, and so they descended.

The stairs went down, and down, and down further still. Some of the lights were fizzling, and some were out completely – burnt out or missing bulbs – which made the affair even more unnerving. “We going all the way to China?” Dean stopped and muttered to Sam.

“Come along! Don't tarry,” Crowley called up. Dean and Sam hurried down, and at last came to the end of the long stairway. Now they had arrived in the midst of a dim, dome-ceilinged space, lined in crumbling, aged bricks. Crowley had already torn off in one direction. 

“What the hell is this: the old subway?” asked Dean.

“Did we have a subway?” his brother replied.

“This way!” Crowley called back. The junk store owner had already ducked down one of the hallways off the main room. Dean noticed that Crowley had grabbed a burning torch from one of the nearby sconces, so he did the same, and hastened to follow as their guide disappeared around a blind corner. When Sam and Dean reached it, they found yet more corridors branched off that one. “Do you even have a permit for all of this?” Dean fretted.

“Blind eye, remember?” Crowley shouted back. 

Dean glowered, but at Sam's silent urging, continued to follow Crowley around a couple more bends. They now came upon a stretch where the wall was lined with dark, more or less rectangular recesses. And then at yet another turn, their path opened into a large, dim area where the brickwork changed into something more intricate.

Ignoring Crowley's impatience, Dean paused and held up his torch.

A skull stared back at him with blank eyes, and he realized to his horror that the entire space was lined not with bricks but with intricately stacked bits of skull and bone. Human skeletons. “Holy shit!” 

Sam, too, stopped and stared. “It's a catacomb. We're living over tombs.”

Up ahead, Dean heard Crowley muttering some words in a forgotten language, and then the protesting squeak of rusty hinges. He and Sam increased their pace, and came finally around the corner to behold an open doorway.

They stepped through the threshold into yet another oddly large room, this one arranged more as a library. Sam, the big bookworm, was instantly drawn to stare at a shelf. Many of the tomes inside seemed to predate the invention of the printing press, and most, from Dean's swift glance around the shelves, were not in English, nor in any language he easily recognized.

“This is fantastic,” said Sam, who had heedlessly plucked out a book, and was now staring at a woodcut of something rather nasty.

“Mum picked up a book or two in her day,” muttered Crowley, who had somehow appeared behind Sam and Dean. “Though she wasn't much at paying library fines.” He was now holding an ornate wooden box. “At any rate, what I have isn't in any book.” He opened the box, and something inside glinted in the light. Dean craned his neck to peer inside.

Resting inside was a small, golden scythe, like a miniature version of something you'd see a cartoon character Death holding.

Dean put his hand out, but Crowley snapped the box shut. “Um!” he hissed.

“OK, all right, what is it?”

Crowley was clutching the box to his chest. “This particular item fell into our hands some time back. It's said to be Death's own scythe.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a look. “Oh, come on,” scoffed Dean.

“It's said that it can kill anything. _Anything_.”

“Like those poor bastards lining your basement rec room?” asked Dean.

Crowley shook his head. “Those poor bastards were all dead and creatively stacked long before you or I arrived in this town. You are aware of the original name of this town, aren't you? And a little of the history.”

“Hellgate,” said Sam. “They named it Hellgate.”

“Charming,” said Dean. 

“So, what do you figure on the scythe?” Crowley pressed. “I know you gentlemen were after the Sword of Bruncvik.”

“OK, what do you want for it?” asked Dean. “And why are you even offering it to us?”

Crowley grinned. “Mostly, I think you two are idiotic enough to go after Roman. And if he opens the door to what I think he's looking for, I don't know about you, but I'm not inclined to be taken as a midnight snack for an Elder God.”

“My brother asked what you wanted,” said Sam. Dean didn't know why, but he had started to get chills. 

“That socially-impaired friend of yours, Detective Winchester?” 

“Cas?”

“I am a collector, of sorts. A dealer in antiquities. I have certain clients who would pay dearly for a single feather.”

“You want-?”

“And a king's ransom for a wing.”

Before Sam could stop him, Dean had stepped forward, grabbing for Crowley's throat. But suddenly, Crowley was standing in behind them. He held up a hand, and the door slammed shut. With the flick of a wrist, there was a line of red and orange fire between him and the brothers. 

“You will find that I drive a hard bargain,” he informed Sam and Dean.

“You will find that, so do we,” said Cas, who stepped out from a shadow along with his brother, Gadreel. Gadreel smiled and flicked a yoyo straight at Crowley's head. The fire fizzled as Crowley went down, clutching his head, the box fallen at his feet.

“You found us!” said a very relieved Dean.

“Forgot to ward, didn't you?” Cas inquired of Crowley as his brother wrapped the antiquities dealer in a yoyo string.

“Forgot to put up wards,” Crowley grumbled. “Wankers.”

“Let's take him, Gadreel,” said Cas.

“No, wait!” said Sam, holding up a hand. He pointed towards the bookshelf. “What was here?” he asked about a prominent gap.

Crowley sighed. “Some of my mum's junk. The jewels of Xiurhn.”

“Yeah, wait a minute, you said they were stolen,” said Dean. “What about 'em?”

“Then we are in grave jeopardy, Dean,” said Cas. “Those jewels may be used to open a door between worlds.”

“Let me guess,” said Dean. “A doorway for a monster who wants to eat the world?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And you didn't think this was worth reporting, Crowley?” Dean asked.

“I've had other things on my mind,” said Crowley.

“Other things than the end of the world?”

“My mum was turning people into hamsters!” Crowley sighed. “I had been distracted trying to buy sufficient Habitrails for all parties!”

Dean glowered, but Sam shrugged at him.

 

Bobby adjusted Chuck's tie. “There. All dressed up for the weddin',” he said, slapping the other man on the back.

“You guys ready?” asked Gabriel. He was wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard, and had been running around the church all morning.

“You know she can't go and marry Joaquin!” Bobby told him as Gabriel led them over towards the pews, where a number of extras dressed in their Sunday best were already seated for today's filming.

“Joaquin is a douche,” Chuck added.

“We've got some surprises in store today, I promise,” Gabriel told them. He puffed his chest. “I had a hand in today's script!”

“Where's Ernesto?” Bobby persisted.

“ _Si, Ernesto!_ ” exclaimed a middle-aged woman sitting in the seats behind them. The man sitting beside her – her husband – nodded furiously and began to rattle off about something in Spanish.

“Yeah, what he said!” added Bobby.

“Like I said, guys, a lot of surprises,” Gabe told them. “Ernesto is out with the second unit, but I can't reveal what's going on. Just, everybody take your places, and we'll start taping as soon as the director is ready.”

Bobby looked at Chuck, and his new friends seated behind them, and all took their seats. Bobby knew he should be grateful: Gabe had gotten him and Chuck roles as extras in what was promising to be _Corazon de Azul's_ most awesome episode every: the wedding of the tempestuous heroine, Maria Helena, and that rat, Joaquin. Somehow, Gabriel had wrangled key members of the show's cast and crew up to film an episode in collaboration with the local Spanish language station, _Cielo Grande,_ and their staff. 

Bobby frowned and pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He drew out his reading glasses and squinted at his text message. “A-OK,” he texted back, before setting the device back in his pocket. “Get the popcorn: looks like we're ready to go,” he confided to Chuck as a PA came by, urging silence.

 

“Bobby says they're ready to go. Now, you know you don't need to come, Jody,” Dean told the sheriff as they stood near the entrance to the old Borax mine. Sam hitched up his backpack and glanced at his older brother.

Jody planted her feet, and Dean knew the answer before she even started to speak. “I know what it is to lose a child. Now someone else's little boy is in danger: I can't ignore it.”

Sam smiled, and Dean nodded. Sam went to talk to Jess, who was part of the group standing by. 

“You guys ready to go?” Dean asked.

“Got the truck loaded up,” said Rufus, as Ash and Gadreel finished securing the tarp over their load. 

“Good,” said Dean. “We ought to arrive just after you guys. You're sure you can handle the security, Gadreel.”

Gadreel merely grinned and brought a yoyo out of his pocket.

“My question is, why isn't he assisting _me_?” asked an obviously frazzled Raphael as Rufus, Ash and Gadreel mounted the truck and started to head down the road.

“Don't worry now, Mr. Budge,” said Donna, “Jo and I are standin' by.”

“I will stay by too, Raphael,” said Cas. “Until I am called.” He cast a worried glance at Dean.

“Cas, don't worry,” Sam assured him. He held up a piece of note paper. “Gabriel made a list of all the possible warding sigils. As soon as we find them, we'll scratch them out and let you know.”

“Dean, I should come with you.”

“Cas, we talked about this,” said Dean. “Gabe thought it could mess you up good if you get near those magical whatcha-jiggies. And we don't wanna have to stop and carry you out, right?”

Cas's forehead creased with worry. “No. I suppose I don't want to be a burden. But you will extinguish the sigils?”

“We'll call you. Meanwhile, don't be a mother hen.”

“I am not poultry!” Cas informed Dean, who had to grin, and then felt himself pulling Cas in for a kiss, despite Sam standing there all tall and moose-y and pretending not to notice.

“All right,” said Dean, as Jody said her goodbyes to Owen, and Sam did the same with Jess. “Raph, you go ahead and get started, and we'll find our way. Everybody stick to the plan, and we'll be fine!” He shot a look at Cas, who still appeared nervous.

“Dean,” said Owen. “You'll bring back Alfie and Justin? I promised them!”

“I told you, honey,” said Jody, “we'll get Alfie.”

Dean crouched down to look Owen in the eye. “We'll get Alfie. And Justin. I promise,” he told the boy. He ignored the odd look Jody and Sam gave him at the mention of Justin Fogler. 

Dean, checked to make sure he had Crowley's scythe on his belt, and then he, Sam and Jody went through one more check of their equipment, and entered the mine. Raphael had taken out his violin, and after a bit of tuning up, had begun to play a haunting, minor-key melody.

Dean took the lead, peering at Owen's map with his headlamp, and walking purposefully into the dark cavern “Can he really call a storm with that violin?” Jody asked from behind him.

“Yeah, I'd say he could,” Dean told her. Though he had his own doubts, he kept them to himself. This had to work. But even if Raph couldn't bring a flood, Dean figured they had a good chance. Jody was a good cop, and he trusted Sam like no other. He regretted that Benny was still in the hospital, but this was a good crew. The plan was that they would throw a monkey wrench into whatever the heck magical nonsense Roman thought he was doing, grab the kids, and make their way back out. It was pretty simple, and they had the element of surprise going for them.

Dean was lost in thought when he glanced at the map and realized they had made the halfway point. He looked up, and heard the trickle of water from somewhere nearby.

“We're not gonna get flooded out?” Sam worried. His brother was now having to stoop, as the tunnel had gotten more narrow here. They were crowded together, taking out water bottles for a drink.

“I'm sure we're fine,” said Dean. He glance up ahead and paused, water bottle halfway to his mouth. He grabbed Jody's arm and pointed.

“I see it too,” she whispered. 

Dean nodded at Sam, who went still, and then he and Jody both grabbed their weapons and, each taking a side of the narrow tunnel, slowly crept down to an outcropping of rock that blocked their view. Dean counted down, 1-2-3, and then both of them sprang out, weapons drawn.

“Don't shoot!” came a high voice.

Dean holstered his weapon and approached the kid who was huddled up against the wall of the cave. “Hello?”

“Help me!” said the kid. “They were all chasing me, and I got scared!”

“You look familiar,” said Jody.

“I'm Tommy, Mrs. Mills!” the kid piped up. “I tried to follow Owen, but I got lost!”

“Ricky's friend,” said Jody. 

“Yeah, but he got mad at me!” the kid protested. “I just want to go home.”

“We should get him out of here,” Sam suggested.

Jody holstered her own weapon. “Look, you guys go on, I'll get him back.”

“You sure, Jody?” Dean asked. “We're halfway there.”

“We're not taking a kid with us.”

Dean stood and thought for a moment. He needed to make a decision – fast. “Yeah, you take him back. Me and Sam will go. We'll try to get the sigils destroyed and call Cas, and he can help us.”

“I can turn around and come back once Tommy is safe,” said Jody.

“Sounds good,” said Dean. “C'mon, Sam.” He and his brother began to walk on.

“Come on, we'll get you out,” Jody told the kid. She turned around and began to walk back.

Just for a moment, the kid flashed a smile.

A terrible smile.


	19. Chapter 19

“Why are we stoppin' here?” asked Rufus.

“Jo wanted us to check in on her mom,” said Ash, hiking his coat up over his head to make a dash out through the pouring rain to Harvelle's. They were parked a ways from the front entrance, as there seemed to be a lot of cars out here. 

Rufus followed him in, as did Gadreel. They had dumped the first load of Borax along the river bank just outside the Roman compound without incident. They had gone upriver about half a mile so they would be out of sight of the guards at the front gate, so Gadreel hadn't had to crack out the yoyos, but he'd been a great help unloading the bags, and they were making great time. They would have no trouble, Ash figured, getting back for a second load. 

Harvelle's was crowded like nothing he'd ever seen: every booth and chair taken up, and every pair of eyes directed at the TV up in the corner, broadcasting the new episode of _Corazon de Azul._ There was even a dog among the crowd – a very friend lab who came up for pets. He seemed to be there with a really pretty brunette woman wearing a Ramones T-shirt.

Ash spotted Ellen up behind the bar. She put a finger to her lips and led the slightly damp crew towards the back of the room, where they kept their voices low. “How's it going, Ellen?”

“I didn't know there were this many people left in the whole county!” she gushed. “Can I get you gentlemen anything?”

“Maybe later, ma'am,” Rufus told her. 

“Jo asked me to stop by to pay my respects,” Ash explained. “She thought you might be lonely.”

Ellen laughed. “That's the last thing on my mind today! People all wanted to get together and watch the wedding. I can't believe it – it's an imaginary wedding!”

“And Maria Helena is an idiot,” grumbled Rufus, scowling at the screen.

“Chuck is there,” said Gadreel, pointing at the TV. 

“And Bobby!” said Ash, as several other folks in the audience muttered and pointed at the screen and raised drinks in celebration of their friends's important cameo appearance.

“You boys have any idea what's going to happen?” Ellen asked.

“Now, you know even if we did, we can't spoil it for you!” Ash told her.

“That man with the pony tail needs to die,” intoned Gadreel, and everyone had to agree.

 

Sam and Dean stood at the back entrance to the mine, peering out at the driving rain.

“Damn, that Raph guy can play the fiddle!” laughed Sam.

“You remember the layout from last time?” asked Dean.

Sam poked his head out and looked around. “I'd say the buildings are thataway.” He pointed.

“Yeah, I agree. We've gotta get at those sigils first so Cas can get here. I think we should probably start in that prefab shed – it's got all those weird markings.”

“Seems right. But the boy – _boys_ – will probably be in the house.”

“We'll get to them. Stay low and follow my lead, and don't do anything stupid!” Dean ordered.

“Lead on,” said Sam. 

“I'm heading to the tree line – that will give us cover.”

Dean led his brother down the mountain and into the cover of the forest. It would be slow going, and easy to get lost, but Dean trusted his sense of direction, and figured it would be easier to elude Roman's men. After a bit of picking through the sodden underbrush, they soon came in sight of the house and the shed. A couple of men carrying shotguns and speaking softly to each other passed by, but Sam and Dean kept quiet, and the sentries passed without noticing them. They continued on until they were just across from that weird five-sided shed. Though the ground was muddy as hell and he was getting cold and miserable, Dean still held behind a tree until he had satisfied himself there were none of Roman's men nearby. Then they raced over to the shed, and carefully opened the door and crept inside.

It seemed to be empty, but there had been some activity since last they were here: the floor was completely covered in arcane markings, and now there was a large jewel of some kind set at each corner of the pentagram design, but for one point that remained empty.

As the rain continued to pour down outside, Dean toed at one of the jewels – something shining and amber-colored. “Well, they've been busy. You think these are the jewels of Zoolander Crowley was talking about?” 

“Jewels of Xiurhn. And, yes.”

“You see anything that looks like the squiggles Gabe showed us? I wanna call Cas in.”

Sam was squinting at a piece of paper. “No, nothing even close. It's like this is a different language!”

“It is a much older language,” came a familiar voice behind them. 

Dean muttered, “Shit,” and turned to see his brother was being held with a sword at his neck.

“It's the first language,” said Eleanor Visyak, who was holding a sword on him. “And very soon, it will be the only language.” She side-eyed Dean. “Keep your hands where I can see them, Mr. Winchester.”

“I thought you were a witch,” said Dean, holding up his hands. “What's up with the sword?”

“I'm not a witch,” said Eleanor. “And I'm not stupid.” 

“You know what's going to happen,” pleaded Sam. “You could stop it! You know what that sword can do.”

“This sword is going to open the door for our new master. Our true master!”

“If that place is so cool,” asked Dean, “why did you leave?”

“I was sent here to prepare the way! Now, you will have the honor of being the first two sacrifices for our new master. Turn around slowly, Mr. Winchester,” she told Dean. 

Dean did as he was told, drawing his weapon as he did.

“Lady, put the sword down!” ordered Dean.

She tightened her hold on Sam. “He dies if you shoot! He dies if you don't! You are out of choices!”

A shot rang out.

Eleanor Visyak cried out and sank to the floor, bleeding.

Dick Roman stepped out of the shadows. “Well, I think I'd dispute that, Prof. Visyak. There are always choices, it's just some of them aren't terribly good.”

“You're Dick,” said Dean, who once again put his hands in the air as now there were there or four more men emerging from the shadows, all pointing weapons at him and his brother.

“Yes,” said the same. 

“What the hell? I thought she was your friend?”

“No offense meant,” said Roman, as Eleanor bled out at his feet. He grabbed the sword from her hands. “All strictly business! Now, what have you done with my boy?”

“What?”

Roman sighed and rolled his eyes. “Where is my son, Richard Roman Jr.?”

Dean and Sam looked at one another. “We have no frickin' idea,” said Dean, which got him knocked real good with a rifle butt.

“Now, now, come on, how is that a way to treat your host?” asked Roman. 

“Dean,” whispered Sam.

“What?” groaned Dean, now hoping he hadn't gotten a kidney knocked loose or something. He listened.

The rain had suddenly stopped.

 

“You really think we'll have time for another load?” asked Ash.

“Can't hurt,” said Rufus, piling another bag of Borax on the back of their truck. Everyone at the mine save Raphael, who was still playing his heart out on his violin, had come out to lend a hand loading up the pickup – Gadreel and Cas and Jess and Donna and Jo and even Owen. It was better than standing around doing nothing while waiting for Sam and Dean and Jody to report back.

“My mom's doing OK?” asked Jo.

“She's great!” said Ash. “You should see the crowd gathered at Harvelle's to watch that dumb soap opera!”

“It's not dumb!” protested just about everybody. And then there began a rapid debate over whether Maria Helena was an idiot or just plain stupid for marrying the horrible pony tail guy. Except that Jo kind of liked the pony tail guy, which caused another round of fearsome debate.

“Stop right there!” came a high voice from up the hill, and the debate cooled down as Jody came into view. She had tears in her eyes, and was being dragged along by a small boy.

“Everyone stop, or else!” the boy shrieked. “You over there, stop playing!” he ordered Raphael. 

Raphael ceased, holding up his bow. The rain, which had been pouring down, instantly thinned to a drizzle..

“Jody?” asked Donna. Jody shook her head. And suddenly the boy who was with her turned into … something else. His entire head was suddenly swallowed into a horrible, yawning mouth. He snapped, and then flipped back to his boy shape.

Everyone took a step back, except for Castiel.

“You are Richard Roman, Jr.,” said Cas quietly.

“You!” shouted the boy, pointing at Cas. “I remember you. You ruined everything!”

Castiel quietly regarded the boy, which seemed to infuriate him. The rain was now a fine mist, and the sun actually peeked through the clouds. Now that he was standing revealed in a patch of sunlight, you could see Ricky had what looked like burned patches all over his face – he looked more like Deadpool in this state than a schoolboy. 

“Oh, god, that's almost worse than the mouth. What's wrong with him?” asked Jo.

“I believe the Borax mine did not agree with him,” said Castiel, “although he seems to have more resistance than the others.”

“You're hurt,” offered Jess. “We could help you. I'm a doctor.”

“I don't want your help,” Ricky yelled, pulling on Jody's arm. “I want Owen!”

“That is not possible,” Cas told her.

“It's possible! And you're next!” swore Ricky. “After I finish eating Owen, I'll pluck your feathers! One by one.”

“As you were intending to do with Ben Braeden?” inquired Cas, his head listing to the side.

“Like I just did with Tommy! But he gave me a stomach ache.”

“The kid … ate his friend?” asked Donna, who was looking a little pale.

“He is a Leviathan. Or rather, half Leviathan, I believe,” said Cas. 

“Where is Owen?” demanded Ricky, pulling roughly on Jody's elbow. “Give him to me!”

“Stay away, Owen!” shouted Jody, and Ricky snapped at her.

“Hey! I'm right here, Ricky,” said Owen, who was standing in back of the pickup truck. Gadreel was backing away from the boy, who was holding something behind his back. “Come and get me.”

“No! Owen!” Jody screamed, but Ricky grabbed her arm and dragged her towards Owen, now snapping his horrible jaws.

Donna raised her weapon and took a shot at him, but the bullets just glanced off of him – she may as well have been firing a water gun. As everyone watched, horrified, Ricky dropped Jody's arm and reached for Owen....

Owen pulled out a yoyo and flipped it towards the handle for the pickup truck. He yanked at it, and the truck began to dump its load. 

“What?” 

Gadreel leapt in and pulled Owen out of the way. Ricky tried to get away as well, but not before he was beaned in the head with a sack of Borax. And then another and another. There was an ungodly shriek, and everyone stood back.

Everybody waited while the dust cleared, and slowly the terrible screams faded.

While both Jo and Donna covered them with their weapons, Cas and Gadreel began to dig out the pile of Borax. “Here,” said Cas after a time. 

“Ew!” said Jo. There was nothing but a kind of black ooze left of what was presumably Ricky Roman.

“Keep the head separate form the body!” warned Raph.

“What's the head and which part is the body?” asked Gadreel.

“You need to get to playing again,” Cas instructed Raph. “We will clean up here.”

“Somebody get me a dustpan,” called Gadreel.

 

Dean and his brother sat watching as Richard Roman smacked the priceless Sword of Bruncvik against the wall and popped out the dragon-eye jewel that had been set in the hilt. 

“You just needed it for the jewel?” asked Dean. It was a pretty cool sword.

Roman muttered some words, and then pressed the jewel into the last point of the pentagram. “Yes, this ought to do it,” he said. “This and the Jewels of Xiurhn.”

Dean wriggled, but he was bound by ropes, and hadn't managed to get out quite yet. He noticed Sam was working on his knot as well. He decided the best strategy was to keep Roman talking.

“So this is gonna open up some kinda door?”

“This is going to open the door. And interdimensional door. I don't expect you to understand.”

Dean paused. After an unnerving interval of silence, it had begun to rain again. He wished this stupid building had windows, so he could keep an eye on the river. 

But then he noticed the trickle of water seeping under the door.

Roman stepped into the middle of the pentagram, his eyes shining. As everyone watched, he began his invocation, speaking a strange mix of words. Dean noticed that Sam had stopped struggling with his ropes, and was listening raptly to Roman, even mouthing the words along with him. Dean wanted to yell at him to get on with it, but didn't want to tip off Roman or his henchmen.

The rain poured down, more intensely than before, rattling on the roof.

The Jewels of Xiurhn, on each point of the pentagram began to shine, and then they were spinning around, and growing bigger. They started big as marbles, but soon enlarged to the size of tennis balls, growing bigger and brighter.

Someone shrieked. The rivulet of water flowing under the door had become a stream, and one of Roman's men had stepped in a puddle. Dean realized Ash and Rufus must have planted the Borax! 

The rain poured down as the henchman dropped his weapon and ran screaming for the door, his boots steaming. Roman ignored him. As the floor began to fill with water, another man and then another screamed in pain and began to run. 

Dean had finally worked through the knot, and he leapt up and tackled one of the fleeing henchmen. Though the guy was strong, he was getting pretty fried by the Borax, and Dean managed to wrestle away his gun. 

The building was now obviously starting to flood – the water was at least ankle deep, but Roman didn't seem affected. The five jewels, now grown big as bright, glowing basketballs, spun and shone, and then threw off lights that connected them into a five-sided pentagram. The light spread out to form some weird, three-dimensional polyhedron, but it didn't seem to be all encased inside the room. It reached up and out and down and in and out – but through twists and turns, like a tiny, many-faceted carnival ride. It was making Dean's stomach lurch to watch, so he turned away. Instead, he sloshed through the water, hitting another screaming minion with his rifle butt, and then grabbed the golden scythe on his belt and cut through Sam's bonds. Sam was still staring at Roman, mouthing the words to the weird chant.

The water on the floor around Roman began to spin, and Dean pulled Sam back towards the wall. Roman had finally finished his incantation. He stood in the middle of the floor, dark waters rushing around him, rain pounding, and extended his arms.

Dean raised his scythe. But then he hesitated – he wasn't certain which way to go any more – Roman seemed to be everywhere and nowhere now. 

“Dean, wait!” shouted Sam. He pushed himself away from the wall, and as Dean listened, disbelieving, began to shout out words of the strange language.

Roman's spell, Dean realized with a start. And Sam was reciting it … backwards!

_Damn, my little brother is cool_ , thought a proud big brother.

Suddenly, the whirlpool, which was nearly engulfing the entire room, seemed to tighten. It condensed, and clarified and somehow (Dean had no words for what happened) ended up focused on the ceiling. 

Roman got thrown outside as the whirlpool shrunk down, and he ended up on his ass in the Borax-laden water.

“You!” Roman raged at Sam and Dean. Dean blinked – Roman didn't seem to be in pain, but the Borax had burned off the top layer of his skin, and he was currently looking like an avocado that was a few months past its freshness date.

Dean raised the scythe and, throwing an arm in front of Sammy, who was still speaking the enchantment, yelled, “Stay back!”

“You're dead!” shrieked Roman, who charged them. But just at that moment, something slimy snaked out of the whirlpool on the ceiling. It was a rather large, greenish tentacle. It grabbed Roman around the ankle, and yanked him back like a snare. He was too large for the opening, but as he screamed in agony, the tentacle yanked him through to whatever hellscape was on the other side.

Dean shrugged. “Well, so much for him.”

Sam had finally stopped the backwards invocation. “We gotta stop this, Dean!” he said as another tentacle lashed out, and the brothers pressed themselves back against the wall.

“The jewels!” came a voice. 

Dean sloshed over to support a bleeding but very much alive Eleanor Visyak.

“You have to get rid of the Jewels of Xiurhn!” she moaned. 

Sam waded over towards the nearest jewel and stared at it for a long moment. Then, steeling himself, he grabbed it with his bare hands. “Sammy!” Dean called.

Sam paused, seeming relieved that he wasn't dead. He hefted it in his hand, and then, with a grin, tossed it up into the mouth of the whirlpool, where he made a lovely 3-point shot.

“Wow,” said Dean.

“Dean, I got this,” said Sam, going for the next jewel. “You get to the kids.”

“Got it!” said Dean, who carefully leaned Eleanor up against the wall. “Thanks,” he told her, and then he took off running.

There didn't seem to be any more of Roman's mooks around, but Dean was worried they would be guarding the house. He held his stomach, flinching in pain – that guy had kicked him but good! But right now, he needed to ignore the pain and find Alfie and Justin so they could get the hell out of here before it flooded out. 

There was nobody out on the porch, so Dean paused at the door, and then entered, weapon drawn. There was a guy inside, and he and Dean ended up with weapons pointed at one another, a Mexican standoff.

Then a little boy started to toddle down the main staircase. “Hello!” he called.

“No, stay back!” Dean warned frantically. But to his surprise, the Roman guy lowered his weapon and started freaking out.

“Stay away from me!” the man yelled, before high-tailing it out the door. Dean heard his screams of pain as soon as he hit the water. 

“Idiot,” said Dean. He reached down and picked up the little boy, groaning at the pain in his side.

“Hello,” said Dean.

“Owie!” said Alfie, touching a hand to Dean's forehead. Dean jumped, like he'd just touched an electrical socket. The pain in his side disappeared.

“Wow, that's a cool trick,” said Dean. “So, you know Justin?”

“Dustin!” said Alfie, who pointed back upstairs. 

“All right,” said Dean, who looked around. He noticed some kind of markings on all the windows. It looked familiar. He remembered the scythe. He unhooked it from his belt and, balancing Alfie on his hip, made a scratch right through the various sigils on the windows, one-two-three. 

When he had finished scratching out the last one, he turned around.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Well, you weren't waiting for anything, were you?” Dean laughed. He handed over Alfie. “Look, take this one, and then come back for Sam. I got something I gotta do.”

“Yes, Dean,” said Cas.

“And listen to me, don't take no for an answer, get Sam outta there!”

Cas nodded, and then he was away so fast it left Dean blinking. Dean turned and ran up the stairs to the second floor, to where he'd seen a ghost, once before.

 

“Here,” said Cas, pushing Alfie into Jo's arms. And then he was gone.

“Uhhhh,” said Jo to the little boy. “You're not gonna start crying, are you?”

“Alfie!” hollered Owen, who came running to greet him. The two boys hugged like long-lost brothers.

“Is this your friend?” asked Jody, who was right behind. And then Jess was there too, with her medical kit, and everyone at the mine was suddenly talking at once. 

“He's gonna be my little brother, and we'll play!” Owen told Jody.

“Owen,” said Jody, “you realize it's not as easy as that, kiddo? He's got a mom, who's probably worried about him.

“Then why isn't she here?” Owen shot back.

Jody cringed. There was no easy answer for that one.

 

Things weren't going according to schedule. Sam had managed to toss three of the five jewels into the spout, but each one was getting harder as the water level rose, and he was getting increasingly worried about Eleanor. She was having trouble keeping her head above the water level, and he could tell she was in great pain.

And then, as they tend to do, things got worse.

After several attempts, Sam landed the fourth jewel into the spout. He was going to cheer, but then it launched right back out, followed by a long tentacle. He hollered and stepped back, sloshing around in the rapidly rising water, clutching the jewel to him (it was the purple one, if that mattered).

But then he slipped on the wet floor, lost the jewel, and while he was fishing around for it, he felt something close around his ankle, and then he was being dragged by his leg, and at first he thought he would drown, but then he was yanked up, and he thought much worse was coming. 

He screamed and flailed and tried to grab onto the slippery tentacle, but he was being yanked up high in the air, sucked towards the mouth of the spout.

Something flashed.

He fell to the ground. And then felt himself yanked up – but this was a hand, not a tentacle.

Cas was there, holding the Sword of Bruncvik. Sam looked around, and saw the decapitated end of a tentacle, and realized what happened.

“Sam, grab on, we need to leave now!” Cas told him.

“All right- Wait! No, take her!” Sam told him, pointing to Eleanor Visyak, who was looking awfully pale.

“Her? No,” said Castiel. “Come along.”

“No!” insisted Sam, pushing Cas back. “I still have to put these away,” he said, holding up a jewel. “Get her back.”

“Sam, the storm out there – I'm getting tired! I don't know how many more trips I can make.”

“Tell Raphael to quit playing!”

“He has quit playing! The windstorm is from this,” said Cas, waving a hand at the still raging funnel.

Oh, crap. “Then I gotta stop this,” Sam told him. “Get her! And then come back for me. I'll be ready. Go!”

Cas looked between Sam and Eleanor, gritted his teeth, and grabbed Eleanor and disappeared into a shadow.

 

The rain had finally died down when Castiel appeared at the entrance to the mine, breathing hard, but a windstorm had now kicked up something fierce. He carefully lowered Eleanor Visyak to the ground.

Jess was at her side, but, recognizing who it was, paused to stare. Then she marshaled herself, and bent down over her patient, assessing her heart rate and blood pressure. “Dammit! Her vitals are shit. She needs to get to a hospital. Fast! Can someone call an ambulance?”

“We can take her!” said Rufus. “Throw the mattress in back of the truck, and wrap her up!” he yelled, and then there was a mad rush into and out of the office, as folks threw a tarp into the back of the truck, and then a mattress pad, and then every blanket and pillow around the place. 

“Owie!” said Alfie, as she was lying there. He toddled towards her, holding out a hand.

Eleanor screamed.

“Alfie, no!” said Jody, holding him back, worried that her words would be lost in the suddenly driving wind.

“But mom!” Owen told her. “He can heal stuff.”

“He can … what?”

“He healed up the bump on my head.”

Jody pointed to Eleanor. “She's scared of him.”

“Yeah,” said Owen. “So were all the guys at the house. It was weird.”

While Jody tried to process this, several people picked up Eleanor and, as Jess hovered by her side, loaded her as gently as possible into the back of Rufus and Ash's pickup. With Donna driving her police car as an escort, they took off.

Just as the dust from the car was dying down, a shadow appeared nearby. Sam Winchester stumbled out. “Dammit, Cas!” he said. “I hadn't finished.”

But Cas wasn't listening. He took two steps, and collapsed to the ground, dark black wings spread out around him, ragged and torn.

 

Dean was tearing his hair out. “Justin!” he called. 

He had tried to get … well, wherever the hell it was Justin's ghost liked to hang out by that portal thing in the bedroom, but it didn't seem to work. 

The water was rising at what seemed to be an insanely fast pace. He noticed while he was running back and forth upstairs that it had now drowned the first story completely. That meant he had to do something before it reached the second floor. 

He paused in front of the room with the cowboy wallpaper again. “LEGO,” he thought. “Justin liked LEGO.” He didn't know how he remembered it, but he ran into the room and began tearing through the toy box. He grabbed Tinkertoys and a train set and a potato head, and then he totally lost patience and tipped over the whole toy box, and out came upon a plastic tub of LEGO bricks.

He was panting, and he noticed that he could see his breath. He turned.

Justin was there.

“This is yours, isn't it?” Dean asked.

Justin nodded sadly.

Dean heard a slosh, and water began pouring into the room. “God dammit!”

Justin pointed towards the bathroom, and Dean followed him. There was a window that opened right up over the toilet. Dean opened it up and looked out. That's when he realized that it wasn't so much that the water was rising, but that the whole valley was in the process of being pulled into a whirlpool. He stuck his head out just as the metal shed collapsed and sank beneath the water.

“Oh, god, I hope Sammy got out.”

“He did,” Justin told him. 

Dean shivered. “OK, we gotta get up, it's our only chance,” Dean told Justin. He crept out of the window and, still holding the LEGO set, felt around up on the roof. He tossed the plastic case up there, and the managed to wriggle up.

Justin's ghost was already sitting up there.

“OK,” said Dean. “OK, good.” Just then, the entire house rattled, and it began to sink towards the the whirlpool. “OK, not so good. Cas is coming. He'll be here soon,” said Dean. 

The house lurched.

 

“Cas! Castiel!” called Sam. He was squatting by Cas, trying not to trample his wings. He looked around. “Where is Jess?”

“She just took that lady to the hospital,” Jo told him.

“I don't think Jess could help him,” sighed Raphael.

“I think he is all right,” said Gadreel. “I think he is exhausted.

“What about his wings?” said Sam. “He's wrecked.”

“Um, I dunno,” Raph admitted.

“Owie!” said Alfie, who was holding Jody's hand.

“Yeah, let him help Cas!” said Owen. “He can do it!”

Sam crouched down to talk to Alfie. “Can you help him?”

“Uh-huh!”

Sam looked at Jody. “All right,” said Jody, as Alfie toddled over to Castiel. 

“Cassie Cas!” said Alfie, touching his little hand to Cas's forehead. It was like an electric shock – it put Alfie down on his butt, with a “Whew!”

Castiel was on his feet, now sporting two magnificent black wings. 

He bent over and touched Alfie lightly on his head. “Thank you, little one,” he whispered.

And then he was gone.

 

Still perched on the rooftop, Dean and Justin floated nearer and nearer the yawning darkness of the whirlpool. Dean felt something cold cover his hand, and noticed Justin was clutching it. He found he was able to hold the little boy's hand.

The house was only a few feet from the funnel now. Dean squeezed Justin's hand. “I'm sorry,” he told the boy.

And then, quite suddenly, it all went dark. Dean was taken aback. He had thought drowning would be quite different. But maybe he had been sucked all the way to the other side?

He looked around, and realized he was sitting in a chair. He seemed to be sitting at a table somewhere picturesque, like a little town in France or something. There was a basket of bread on the little table. And the gaunt man who was sitting opposite of him was stabbing at a pizza with knife and fork. 

It was strange, because there seemed to be no other patrons at the restaurant, nor anywhere else for that matter. He looked up and down the street. 

He spotted Justin. The little boy was clutching his LEGO set, and talking with someone. It was a dark-haired woman – she seemed awfully familiar. And the little ghost girl from the mine was there! She had her teddy bear with her. She was talking to Justin. He finally nodded to her, and the dark-haired woman took his hand and began to lead him away. But just before he went off, he turned and waved bye-bye to Dean.

Dean waved.

“Won't you try some pizza?” asked the gaunt man at the table. 

Dean glanced at the table, and noticed that the scythe he'd brought out – which had proved pretty useless – was sitting at the table.

“I must thank you for returning my scythe,” said the man, dabbing his chin with his napkin. “And I also owe you a favor for bringing Justin along. We've been waiting for him for some time now. You see, my job can be difficult, but it's especially difficult sometimes with children. They do tend to get confused. It's so much better if we have another child there, to explain things to them.”

“Justin … is going to work for you?” asked Dean.

“Yes, he was to be one of ours. I think he will work out famously. And you! Now, I do realize that you probably have a certain amount of motivation to get back to your life and such, but I really couldn't pass up the opportunity to see if you might reconsider.”

“Um, you want me … to work for you too?”

“Now, there would be certain matters you would have to give up, and I can well understand your reluctance – believe me, when you are as old as me, you no longer take offense at such things.”

“I- I wanna go back. I mean, I'm grateful and all. And … Justin will be OK?”

“Yes, Justin is with his family now. As I suppose you will want to be. Well, can't say I didn't try, can we?”

“Uh, I guess not?”

The man held up a jewel It was the dragon-eye one, the one from the Sword of Bruncvik. “You will take this with you, won't you? It's a long story, but it does best to stay in your realm, if it's all the same to you.”

Dean took the jewel and put it in a pocket.

The man took a sip of wine. “Oh, and it will be cold. Sorry about that.”

“What?”

But the man merely smiled, dabbed his chin with a napkin, and snapped his fingers.

So cold.

It took Dean's breath away. So cold. He couldn't remember being so cold. 

And then he woke up, and he was fighting against it, trying to figure out which was was up in the roiling, dark water, fighting to the surface, lungs exploding....

Dean was yanked up. He had barely gotten a good breath in when he was wrapped up tight and hurtled through space. 

He surfaced, blinking, to the brightest glare he'd ever seen.

 

Bobby sat quietly in his pew when the PA motioned all of the extras to assemble once again. “Think something big is up,” he confided to Chuck, who nodded. They'd sat through a bunch of boring speeches, but now was the big moment, where Maria Helena was up at the altar, getting married to that rat, the pony tail guy.

Despite the producer's call for silence, there were hisses and boos from the assembled audience. But she just ignored them, because she was a big idiot who always made the worst goddam life choices.

And then the double doors at the back of the church cracked open, and in thundered heroic Ernesto de la Hoya, the eye patch dude, astride his pure white stallion. The crowd erupted into spontaneous applause as the awesome cool eye patch dude leapt off his horse and ascended the altar.

Maria Helena scowled, and slapped him on his face. 

He glared at her with his one eye, and then whirled around, and swept Joaquin, the pony tail guy, into a passionate kiss, full on the mouth, and for a rather arresting amount of time.

And then Ernesto threw Joaquin up on his horse, leapt up after him, and they rode off together, into a matte painting of the sunset.

For quite a long time, there was utter silence. You could hear a pin drop.

“Welp,” said Bobby to Chuck. “That sure explains a thing or two!”

Just then, there was a terrific crash.

 

Everyone in Harvelle's was talking about the surprise ending of _Corazon de Azul _. Everybody had an opinion, it seemed, even the dog.__

__But then they all heard a big crash, and everyone went silent, peering again at the TV screen._ _

__There was an angel in the middle of the church. He had broad, dark wings._ _

__He was beautiful._ _

__This was definitely the best special effect they'd ever done!_ _

__He unwrapped his magnificent wings, to reveal that he was holding onto a man. A drowned man. Or at least, a sopping wet man – a man who looked like death warmed over and maybe then set on a shelf to cool._ _

__The angel drew near to the man, his arms around him. They were obviously in love!_ _

__The crowd in Harvelle's held their breath. The dog might have yipped – it was pretty excited._ _

__The angel bent over and kissed the man. The man's eyes fluttered open. He came alive, as they watched, holding his angel's face, looking on in wonder._ _

__“Awww!” said several of the assembled crowd._ _

__“Annnnd, that's all we have time for today!” said Gabriel. He was in the studio, wearing a headset. Maria Helena came over and they both started waving goodbye, and then all the extras gathered and waved as the camera panned out. The man and his angel looked around, a little disoriented, but they too waved goodbye._ _

__And then the end credits came up._ _

__There was silence._ _

__And then the clapping started._ _

__A man jumped up on a table, waving a beer. “That was fucking awesome!” he yelled._ _

__“You get off my table!” Ellen scolded, but in a good humored way._ _

__Dee Dee's (the dog's) tail thumped, and Pam Barnes grinned and tossed him a treat._ _


	20. Chapter 20

_Afterwards…._

 

Jody Mills held tightly to little Alfie’s hand as they left the court building. A beaming Sam Winchester was there, as well as her son, Owen.

Dean met them on the steps, anxiously searching their faces. “How did we do?”

Jody looked at Sam, who grinned. “Alfie’s mom has ceded custody, so we got Jody temporary custodianship. She’ll have a visit from Social Services, but I think we’re gonna do well.”

“Guess they got no problem with single moms these days,” said Jody, as Alfie rushed to give his Uncle Dean a big hug. 

“Hey, got no owies on me today, kiddo,” said Dean, who had crouched down to talk to the youngster. “But I’m wondering if you can pay a visit to a good friend of mine?” He looked up at Jody.

“Alfie can do it!” said Owen. “He fixed Cas! He made his wings awesome!” Owen ran around with his arms outstretched (evidently his version of wings) and hooted, and Alfie then ran to imitate him, giggling all the time.

Jody was a little more subdued. “We don’t really know how his power works yet,” she told Dean. “He seemed out of it a little while after healing Cas, but he looks like he’s recharged, or whatever. Geez, it was bad enough with one kid, now I have a magical kid?” But she was smiling.

“For what it’s worth,” said Dean, “I agree with you. But this is a special case, or else I wouldn’t ask.”

“Bobby said he trusts your judgment, Jody,” Sam told her. “I do too.”

Jody stood, thoughtful, for a long moment, and they called to Alfie. “OK, we’re gonna go visit someone in the hospital now. You might be able to help him, but you listen to me about that, all right?”

“OK!” enthused Alfie. 

“I’ll watch him!” Owen volunteered.

“Hey, yeah, you’re doin’ great as a big brother!” Dean told him, and Owen grabbed Alfie and hefted him up on a hip, and Alfie squealed with delight. 

 

They got to go to the hospital in Dean’s big car. Jess met them, and escorted them back. Dean was surprised to meet Cas in the corridor.

“Hey,” he said. “Jody, I’ll be along. What are you doing here?”

Castiel shook his head. “My family has been consulted on … a certain matter.”

“Here she is!” called Gabe, who came by with a hamster cage. “Even got a little wheel.” He spotted Dean and grinned. “Hey, loverboy!”

Dean cringed. “Yeah, Gabe.”

“They wanna know if you’d consider another guest appearance on _Corazon de Azul_. Ratings were through the roof!”

“I didn’t consider my _first_ appearance,” Dean grumbled. He decided to change the subject. “What is that for?” he asked, pointing to the cage. “Crowley’s mom throw a hex on another doctor?”

“Naw, you remember Eleanor Visyak?”

“Gabe I’m not sure-“ Cas mustered.

“I guess the old witch woke up enough to ask Visyak to join her new ‘Mega Coven.’ Visyak said no, and then found herself with four legs and fur.”

“Huh,” said Dean.

“Anyway, Pop’s been in working on it, but he’s not all there these days, so I figured in the meantime, maybe she gets some exercise?” He gave the little wheel a turn, and it squeaked.

“That’s- That’s completely whack-o, Gabe.”

“Thank you, Detective Winchester,” laughed Gabriel. “And think about that guest spot!” he called as Castiel hurried him along the corridor.

Dean shrugged it off, and walked towards Benny’s room. But once again, he didn’t make it all the way, because Andrea met him in the hallway and pretty much tackled him with kisses. “It’s a miracle!” she sobbed, tearfully dragging Dean into the hospital room.

Jess and the attending physician and a couple nurses were gathered around him, so it was a little hard to see, but the voice was unmistakable. “I tol’ you I fell all right! Back off and gimme some air!” Benny groused as various personnel took blood pressure readings and tried to get blood samples.

“He’s up!” Sam told Dean. He was holding up Alfie on a hip and grinning. 

“That my partner?” hollered Benny.

“Benny!” said Dean, trying to thread through well-wishers (who included, besides Sam and Alfie and Jody and Owen, also Andrea’s sister). “You missed all the fun!”

“God dammit! Well, you’ll have to fill me in.”

Suddenly, yet more well-wishers appeared at the door. “Hey!” boomed Gabriel, as Dean cringed. “I heard we got an unscheduled miracle hereabouts!” Cas and Chuck were also peering into the room.

“All right, enough!” ordered Jess. “Immediate family, and by that I mean Andrea and her sister, can stay. Everybody else get the hell outta my hospital room!”

Gabe looked like he might protest, but saw Jess’s stare, and backed out.

Everybody filed out, down the corridor, and into the waiting room, where Sam finally put down little Alfie. “Is that our little miracle worker?” asked Gabe as Alfie smiled up at him. “Heard you did a good job with my bro! I owe you some candy.”

“We’re going easy on the candy,” warned Jody.

Gabe crouched down and whispered, “I got you on candy.”

But Chuck was now staring at Alfie. He approached the boy, a look of wonder on his face. 

“What's goin' on, Pop?” asked Gabe.

Chuck crouched down, at eye level with Alfie. “Samandriel?” he asked, softly.

Alfie let out a squeal, and ran to him, throwing his arms around Chuck.

“Samandriel,” said Chuck, tears in his eyes. “My boy.”

“Samandriel?” asked Cas. “Is this Samandriel?”

“Wait, this is our bro?” asked Gabe.

“Owie!” piped up Alfie. He touched Chuck's forehead. Chuck blinked in surprise. 

“I'm so sorry, my son,” he told Alfie. “I should have known who you were sooner.”

“He's … one of yours?” asked Jody.

“Can he still live with us?” pleaded Owen, tugging on his mother’s sleeve. “I need a little brother.”

 

Dean stood on the courthouse steps with his brother and Castiel. Sam was chatting on his cell phone. 

“OK, so Mrs. DeAngelo has relinquished parental rights for now. Bobby has granted provisional custody of Alfie (or Samandriel, or whatever) to Jody Mills for now. So Owen's got a brother.” Sam looked at Cas. “But you guys will consult, when needed?”

“I think that will work out well,” said Cas. “It’s been a while since we have had a small child in my household.”

“Wow,” said Dean, “kid’s gone from being neglected to everybody fighting over him!”

“We won’t fight over him!” Cas remarked. 

“We know what you mean, Cas,” Sam assured him. “And Jody will appreciate help with understanding his powers.” 

“As Sheriff Mills has a demanding job, my father will provide child care whenever it is called for,” said Cas.

“They're gonna leave Alfie with … Chuck?” asked Dean.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “My father has much recovered himself in recent days. Also, there is a lovely neighbor named Beth who will assist him.”

“Lemme guess,” said Dean, remembering the forgetful woman they had found in town. “Alfie gave her a magic touch.”

Sam was listening to his cell phone. “Yeah, Bobby wants us to remember we're going to keep Alfie's powers a secret for now.”

“My brothers are eager to assist in this matter as well,” said Cas, who pulled out a dark wing and withdrew something from it. Dean stared. Cas was getting less shy about his wings since they crash landed in the finale of a popular _novela_ , but it was still a surprise. _My boyfriend has cool wings,_ he thought.

Cas held out a tiny violin and a small, golden yoyo. Sam was leaning over to get a picture. He clicked his cell phone, and then held it back to his ear. “Bobby says the violin is cute as the dickens.” Sam listened. “And yes to the violin, but no to the killer yoyos. For now.”

Dean chuckled. 

“Also, Gabe should do something useful, like teach the kid Spanish,” said Sam.

“He just wants someone to watch telenovelas with,” grumped Dean, who watched in awe as Cas brought out a wing again and tucked away the violin and yoyos.

“Dean?” asked Cas. Dean blushed.

“Also,” Sam pocketed his phone and grabbed something out of his wallet, “Jess said yes, but no way to setting this in her engagement ring!” He flipped something to Dean.

Dean grabbed the dragon-eye jewel from the Sword of Bruncvik. “Yeah, I thought I’d offer it to her. Too bad we can’t put it back into the sword – that was a cool sword!”

“You know what you’ll do with it?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded at Cas. “Charlie's checking into it. Meanwhile, Oliver Pryce has agreed to take over Crowley’s magic tricks shop. We’re gonna store it down in that secret basement for now.”

“Sounds good. Well, I gotta get back to work. Seems like work has piled up lately!”

“Wonder how that happened?” Dean chuckled. 

Sam waved goodbye and ran back up the steps into the court building.

“Cas, how about we get some lunch?” Dean asked.

“I would like to get a hamburger at the Moonlite, if that’s all right with you, Dean?”

“Anything you want!” Dean told him. They began to walk that way, side by side, and that’s when Dean started to see the looks. Cas appeared oblivious, but ever since they had dropped in on an episode of _Corazon de Azul_ – and not just any episode, it was the wedding episode – people everywhere would stop and look when he and Cas passed by. Sometimes, they would shyly come up and ask for a photo, and a couple of people had pleaded for Cas to show his wings. (Dean didn’t blame them on that – his wings were fucking amazing.)

Cas was inevitably patient with all of them, but Dean still wasn’t quite certain what to do. 

“Dean?”

“Oh, uh, and Benny says to tell Raph thanks for the concert tickets!”

“I trust he is doing well?”

“He's back and better than ever. He won't quit whistling _Peter and the Wolf!_ ”

Now a teen girl had broken off from a little gaggle and (probably on a dare), ran up and asked Cas for a selfie. 

“Um. Are you guys … out together?” the girl asked Dean and Cas shyly as her friends giggled.

Cas looked over to Dean.

Dean sucked in a breath.

And then he seized Cas’s hand. “Actually, we’re on a lunch date.”

The girl giggled and held out her phone. And Cas – he seemed to glow. Dean grabbed her camera so they could all three pose, and then the wings came out, and they had to stop and pose for a couple more pictures.

Then, after Cas had got his wings tucked in again, holding Cas’s hand tightly, Dean led the way to the Moonlite.

“Hey, how’s it going?” called Elizabeth as they entered. “Can I set you up with some milkshakes?”

Dean shushed Cas, and called out, “One milkshake. Two straws!”

As nearly everyone in the diner turned around, Dean escorted Cas to a booth, waited while he grabbed a seat, and then squeezed in after him. Somehow, Elizabeth was already there with a huckleberry shake. And two straws. And a big, dopey look on her face. 

Dean stuck both straws in the milkshake, and then scooted over close, his arm draped around Cas, so they could both drink at the same time, like a couple of stupid kids.

Elizabeth grinned wide, and placed down two menus.

“You need a burger, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Dean, I don’t need anything at all,” Cas told him.

And they sat there staring at one another, just like a couple of big old idiots. Because that’s exactly what they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou thankyou thankyou everyone for your lovely comments! It really kept me going, and it was fun to wake up to messages in my inbox. *blows smooches*


End file.
